Finding Emil
by theKeeperofMemories
Summary: A story about two brothers, a mentally crippled young man, and their quest through the Underworld. The darker, twisted, Hetalian version of 'Finding Nemo', starring Lukas Bondevik as Marlin, Emil Steilsson as Nemo, and Mathias Køhler as Dory. #Possible DenNor in the far, far future, likely in the sequel, 'Finding Mathias' (already up).
1. Prologue

**So well, I guess you can tell from the title and summary that this is the Hetalia version of Finding Nemo, just slightly darker and with a few twists in the original plot. If you compare the movie with this story though, you would still find a few similarities. I own nothing, basically. Human names are used, and the characters might be kind of OOC. I'll try my best though. Wish you'll enjoy the story; please review!**

 **Prologue**

New York City wasn't a bad place. In fact, it was quite beautiful in a clustered and busy kind of way, and everyone was independent yet dependent at the same time. There were rules, but people were free here, and they minded their own business.

They don't judge, and they try their best not to care about other's businesses.

Lukas had thought that it was good, because he was a quiet, secretive child, and didn't like it when people nosed into his life without his permission.

He had been content with it, until that day, when he was seven, and all he could see was blood.

Blood on the bed, blood on the walls. Blood on him. And blood on his baby brother who was only two years old, wailing in his crib because that scent of death was so strong, the metallic smell of blood so suffocating.

Lukas doubled over, one hand pressed against the blood-splattered walls for support, and his dinner left his stomach in an uncontrolled hurl. He retched even after he was empty, and his legs were weak with fear and pure horror. He glanced up, his dark blue eyes watering and unfocused, and noticed a dark silhouette standing over his brother's tiny, sobbing form.

Something glinted in the light, and Lukas recognized metal.

There was a gun in the figure's hand.

His body reacted on his own, and he lunged forward, a hoarse cry escaping his lips. "No!"

The killer did not pull the trigger, however. Instead, he stepped back and tucked the weapon into his belt. Dark green eyes glinted, deep, filled with sorrow and death. The assassin's voice had a hint of a sneer in it as he said, "I don't do children." And then he spun on his heels and leaped through the broken window on the ninth floor.

Lukas knew he didn't leap to his death, but he didn't care. His brother was still wailing in distress, and with his weak, trembling arms he pulled the infant into a tight hug. Then, he stumbled out of his parents' room, stepped over their corpses like they were merely a misplaced doll, and placed Emil on his own clean sheets. The baby settled immediately; his sobs began to quiet the moment they had left the death-filled room and the instant his head hit Lukas' pillow, he was asleep.

The older child, on the other hand, could not bring himself to peace.

He was young enough to be confused and bewildered, but old enough to understand that what he had experienced was not normal, and it was something that does not happen often.

It was midnight, but Lukas was not tired. All weariness had been sapped away the moment he heard the screams pierce through his dreams. So he entered the shower, scrubbing the blood from his hands, his neck, his face…

It was as if he was trying to scrub away all the things he had just saw, just lived through.

The sun rose steadily. For most of the other residents of New York, it would be just the start of another day, and they would continue in their lives, independent, uncaring.

For Lukas and Emil, however, it was the beginning of a new life.

Emil stirred slightly, and giggled when Lukas poked him in the stomach to wake him up.

The first thing Lukas did was give Emil a bath, brushing the dark brownish-red clumps from his hair and getting rid of the stains on his face.

He didn't bother with the soiled clothes.

Lukas wanted to dress Emil, but couldn't bring himself to enter that room again, so he pulled one of his shirts over Emil's head and decided to leave it at that.

Then, Lukas adjusted his hair clips, the brothers put on their shoes leisurely, as if they were merely going to the park, and left the house. They met no one in the elevator or hallway, and Lukas was grateful for that. He didn't like people who asked too much questions.

On the streets, people were busy going their own way, and there weren't many that spared them a glance.

Emil got tired of walking really soon, and Lukas had to carry him. The warmth shared between their bodies was comforting, so he never let his brother go, even when his arms began to hurt.

When they finally stopped, they were standing in front of the closest police station. Lukas took a deep breath, burying his nose in Emil's pale blonde hair.

"Don't worry, Emil," he murmured, his voice muffled, "I will protect you. I won't let anything happen to you."

Emil was fiddling with Lukas's hair clips, and strands of hair fell into Lukas's eyes. He ignored them, took a deep breath, and entered the police station.

"How may I help you?"

Lukas felt strangely calm, serene. Emil chuckled as he messed up his brother's hair.

"My parents have been murdered."

He will protect Emil. Even if it means that he has to become a murderer himself.

He will do anything.


	2. Young Courage and Stubbornness

**Chapter One**

 **10 years later: Boston**

There was a blind ringing in his head, and it grew louder and louder, bouncing off the insides of his skull, knocking his brain into a pounding headache.

Lukas groaned, flipping over on his bed as his hand groped blindly on his bedside table, knocking books and papers to the floor.

The ringing continued.

He gave up, cracking open an eye, and finally managed to stop that horrible sound as he located his alarm clock.

Coffee. Lukas needed coffee. He didn't want to leave the comfort of his house, so the instant coffee mix would have to do.

Slowly, painfully, Lukas sat up. It's not going to be a good day, he already knew. At least it's still summer vaca-

"Lukas, wake up, it's the first day of school today," a monotone voice caught his attention. Emil strode into his room, flinging the curtains open. Lukas flinched.

"What?" he croaked.

"It's the first day of school today," his younger brother repeated, an expression of boredom on his face, "The first day of middle school for me."

"Oh God…" Lukas sighed, flopping back onto his bed. Emil scowled slightly, reached over, and threw the covers off of Lukas.

"If you don't get up now, we're going to be late." To most people, Emil's voice would've been as emotionless as ever, but Lukas was his brother: he grew up with him, raised him, and could tell that Emil was annoyed.

"Fine, I'm up." Under the watchful eye of his brother, Lukas crawled slowly off his bed and towards his closet.

Emil's first day of middle school…

Lukas couldn't stop the sigh that passed his lips.

Everyone knew that middle school was the beginning towards the descent of hell. Middle school was when the more intense bullying starts, and when kids start to grow very self-conscious; it's when the depression comes rolling in, and the suicidal thoughts, and all that bad mumble-jumble Lukas doesn't want near Emil. No, they shouldn't come ten meters near his brother, or he'll… he'll… he didn't know what he will do, but it's most likely something not too great.

Emil was like his brother: he wasn't very social; it's as if he's carved from ice. He had never brought back any friends, or spoken about anybody from school. In fact, he had basically never spoken about school, other than occasionally complain about how boring some classes were and how much a jerk his teachers were.

But well, it wasn't like Lukas was any better. He wasn't a loner, but there weren't anyone he actually called his friend. His grades were average, his sports were average, and honestly, the only thing he thinks he does perfectly was hiding his past and telling lies.

It wasn't exactly the best talent.

Emil left his room to get some breakfast, and Lukas brushed his teeth quickly, patted his hair down, clipped his bangs behind his ears, and basically flew out the bathroom towards the tiny kitchen cupboard where his coffee was stored.

Instant coffee mix weren't as good as actual coffee beans, but Lukas was only seventeen, and he couldn't get a job that was super well-paying. They could barely afford this apartment, in fact, but he'll do anything to get them out of that sorry excuse society calls an 'orphanage'.

Lukas sighed again, but this time, not completely out of annoyance and exasperation. Yes, it'll be a horrible day, but at least he had coffee.

* * *

When Lukas went to pick Emil up after school, he was shocked to see his brother looking _happy_. There was the faintest twitch on his lips, and Lukas knew that Emil was _filled with joy_.

It was a strange thought.

"How was your first day?" Lukas inquired, pretending he couldn't see the message etched on Emil's face.

There was a hint of overwhelming excitement in his voice as Emil replied, "It was pretty cool."

It truly was a strange thought.

* * *

 **2 months later, end of October**

Lukas groaned, throwing down his soaked backpack and flopping onto the small couch.

Emil was less dramatic, but he was sighing as well, misery and weariness written on his posture.

Outside, the wind howled, the rain continued to pound down on the rooftops, windows, and street. People were disappearing off the streets in an instant, trying their best to avoid the storm. A few people with destinations in mind braved the rain, struggling to keep their umbrellas in their grasps.

The two brothers were less lucky. They had forgotten to bring umbrellas despite the warning from the weather forecast, and now, both were soaked to the skin.

"Emil," Lukas called in his quiet voice, "Go shower first. I don't want you getting sick."

The younger boy was feeling too miserable to argue, even though he believes that he'll be fine.

Half an hour later, both brothers were warm and dry, and now they're trying to do their homework without ripping the damp papers and books. Lukas tapped his pencil against the coffee table that also serves as their homework and dining table as he stared at the ridiculous math equation in front of him. Math had been perfectly fine until they decided to mix the Greek and Latin alphabets into it. Emil was shuffling through his backpack, pulling out random loose papers and writing utensils that had broken out from his pencil case.

"Oh right," the thoughtful silence was broken by Emil when he dug out a gray sheet of paper and skimmed it through, "Ms. Héderváry told us to get this signed…"

Lukas took the damp sheet and looked it over. He raised an eyebrow. "Two months into the semester and there's already a field trip?"

Emil hummed a reply.

"Where will you be going?"

"Read the paper yourself."

Shooting an icy glare at Emil, Lukas focused on the specifics. _Date: October 28th, Friday; Meeting time: 8:30; Location…_

Lukas froze.

 _Location: Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York._

 _New York._

Lukas threw the paper onto the table. "You're not going."

Emil's head snapped up, eyes wide. "What, why?"

"It's too dangerous."

"It's a _field trip_. How dangerous can it be? We're going to an _art museum_!"

Lukas didn't reply, just looked away, so Emil continued, "Is it because it's in New York? Just because it's in New York?" Lukas remained mute. "Well, why the hell are you so scared?"

 _Blood. Blood everywhere. The gun. The screams. Crimson. Blood in his hair, blood on his hands…_

"Do _not_ use that tone at me, Emil," he grounded out.

"Not until you tell me _why_. Why are you like this? It's just a _field trip_ -"

"You won't understand," the elder brother snapped. "You were too young. You won't understand."

"How do you know I won't understand if you don't tell me?"

"Because you won't!" For the first time ever, Lukas raised his voice, and it stunned Emil into silence. "You- you were there, but you were young, you don't remember; you saw, but you _laughed_. You _won't understand_!"

The small apartment was silent, but there was an icy tenseness boiling beneath that silence. Emil's jaws were clenched in anger and defiance. They had never fought like this before, and neither of them liked it. But neither of them wanted to give up their pride just to agree with the other either, so the two brothers, alike in their cold, emotionless personality, continued to let the frozen ire grow.

Again, it was Emil who broke the silence. His voice was disgusted as he spat, "I _hate_ you."

Lukas went slack. His eyes widened slightly, and a flicker of shock flitted across his face.

If Emil noticed, he didn't acknowledge it as he continued, "My whole life all you've ever done was tie me down. You wouldn't let me do anything _remotely_ exciting! You think you're doing me a favor? Well guess what, you're not! This is a free country, so why can't _I_ be free? It's not fair; why do you have to be so restricting? Why can't you just _let me be_?"

Lukas decided to speak up. "It is for your _own good_ -"

" _My own good_? How is not being able to do anything good for me? What are you trying to do, _protect me_? Well you're doing a goddamn shitty job-"

"Emil…" Lukas warned.

"-because nobody wants to live like that! I feel like I'm living in a cage! You can't just go and decide to plan my whole crappy life for me-"

"Emil!" Lukas barked, his hand slamming onto the surface of the coffee table with a loud crack that made Emil react much more violently than he would've liked. The younger boy chewed on his bottom lip, hating the fact that he had jumped, and ignoring the pounding of his heart, hiding a flinch as Lukas stood up, anger rolling off him in waves. "That's enough Emil. You're not going. End of conversation. I do not want to hear one more word about this. I'm going to prepare dinner."

Emil watched him head towards the kitchen, his posture stiff yet imposing. He had never seen Lukas so angry before, and to be truthful, it frightened him. There had been something in those blank dark blue eyes during their argument, something that writhed dangerously, something that told Emil that he truly wouldn't understand, something that screamed that what he had seen before was not something the younger child could handle.

It made Emil feel so sick, and out of a blind act of anger and disgust, he pulled on his shoes and left the apartment, making sure to slam the door extra loud.

He didn't take the elevator- they were only on the third floor, and sometimes, the stairs were much quicker than the elevator.

Outside, the rain had yet to cease, but it had diminished significantly. Emil pulled his hoodie over his pale blonde hair and hastily wiped at the tears of anger and frustration that had sprung to his dark violet eyes. He took several deep breaths, gulping down the fresh air gratefully, and continued on.

Emil wasn't stupid, but he was young, and it was that young courage and stubbornness that made him decide: he will get to New York, even if it's by himself, and he doesn't remember ever being there before.

He will prove to his brother that he doesn't need his protection. He can handle himself just fine.

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	3. Broken Stars

**Chapter Two**

Lukas had moved the moment he heard the door slam. He spun around, staring incredulously at the empty living room. Then, he hurriedly grabbed the necessities: phone and house keys, and hurried out as well, taking the stairs two at a time to try and catch up with his brother.

It should be easy. Lukas wasn't weak, and Emil was younger than him by five years. But when he burst out of the building, his younger brother was nowhere in sight. For a few moments, all he could do was look frantically from side to side, trying to find something, anything that would tell him where Emil was going.

Then, he remembered. New York City.

Knowing Emil, he'd be trying to get to New York city.

Immediately, Lukas sped off. Emil had moved strangely quickly, but Lukas continued to race down the streets as quickly as his legs would take him, and soon enough, when he turned around another corner, he saw a familiar gray hoodie, just ready cross the road.

"Emil!" Lukas called, gasping for breath.

The younger boy visibly froze, and he turned his head slightly to confirm the source of the voice. Then, Emil burst into a run, crossing the road the moment the light flashed green and continuing. Lukas followed, ignoring his burning chest and legs.

The two boys began a cat and mouse chase, and Emil sped on, surprisingly fast.

Emil was fifteen meters away. Lukas pushed himself on, gathering speed. Twelve meters…

Ten meters…

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, a dark silhouette rose, looming in Emil's path. Unable to stop himself in time, the pale haired boy slammed into the figure, and stumbled back, losing his balance.

Eight meters…

The person plucked Emil from the ground like a rag doll. Its gloved hands were tightening around his pale, slender neck. Emil struggled, kicking, groping, but it didn't seem to bother the man.

Five meters…

The dark figure turned around heading towards a truck parked on the side of the road. Emil had gone slack in his hand, his feet swaying limply.

"No!" Lukas's body reacted on his own as a hoarse cry escaped his lips. He lunged forward, knocking into the person's broad back. It made no difference, but the dark figure stopped moving for a second.

"My brother-!" Lukas shouted, reaching for Emil. That was when the man moved, his free arm shooting around and slamming into Lukas's stomach like a heavy club. The breath was knocked out of his body, and he dropped to the ground, gasping. The sides of his vision was slightly blurry, but he was still conscious enough to grab the man's coat and pull as hard as he could, foot lashing out at the same time, connecting with the other's ankle.

The man stumbled, then aimed a kick at Lukas's stomach, continuing his assault for several moments before stopping and readjusting his coat. He tucked Emil under one arm as he smoothed the fabric and realigned the layer.

Lukas, in his position on the ground, can only watch helplessly, his body too racked with pain to do anything. But his vision had not failed him yet, and he watched as a slip of paper was wormed out of the coat pocket, drifting to the wet ground in slow motion.

The man did not notice. He finished organizing his clothes, and continued his way towards the truck. Emil was thrown into the back: Lukas couldn't help but flinch as he saw the careless movements. He began to crawl back to his knees, then to his feet, just as the truck began to move.

Lukas grabbed the note on the ground and began following the vehicle as quickly as his aching body would let him. It was too dark: he couldn't see the car plate number, and he knew it was useless. He would never be able to catch up with a truck.

It didn't stop him from trying, though, and when the truck finally completely disappeared from his field of vision, it didn't help him feel any less devastated.

His younger brother was kidnapped right before his eyes, and there was nothing he was able to do.

Then, he remembered the slip of paper and his heart brightened just a little bit. Maybe it would have some clue…

His heart sank.

There were words on the paper, but it was written in code. He had no idea how to read all the little squares and triangles and lines.

Lukas sighed in defeat, and tucked the paper into his own pocket. He slumped against a wall, resting for a moment, before struggling to his feet and began his return to the more populated areas of the city.

He had never been very social, however, and even as the crowds began to grow denser as people finished their dinner in some restaurant, he wasn't sure how to ask them if they had seen a truck. Then again, the truck didn't look very suspicious, and trucks weren't really all that rare in the city.

Lukas groaned. What could he do…?

He began to head back towards the apartment. He'll figure something out. He has to find Emil, has to do something. After all, he promised his brother that he wouldn't let anything happen to him.

Lukas didn't pay attention to his surroundings, but he knew the city well enough to head back automatically. His abdomen was on fire, he felt like he might have cracked a rib or two, but he didn't care. He continued on. Perhaps this was a punishment for letting something happen to his brother, for breaking the promise. Perhaps he deserved-

Somebody slammed into him hard enough to make his stomach flare with pain. He saw stars at that time, and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever-

"God, I'm so sorry!" an eccentric voice exclaimed. "I was running and you appeared out of nowhere and I couldn't stop and I'm so sorry and you can't die! Are you dead? Please don't die! I don't know what I'll do if you die!"

The stars sizzled out, and Lukas's eyes focused on the source of the painfully loud voice.

It was a boy about his age, tall and strong in stature, with spiky golden blonde hair swept up in a hairstyle above his head that made him look taller, though it was beginning to droop with the light drizzle. He eyes were mild blue, a merry light dancing within. An expression of utter horror was etched across his face.

"Oh, thank God, you're not dead!" The boy's voice was loud, too loud, and it was hurting Lukas's ears. "Can you stand? I'll help you! Where are you going? I'll help you! Are you okay? I'll help you!"

As if sensing Lukas's discomfort, he quieted down a little. He offered a hand, and pulled Lukas to his feet. "Oh yeah, by the way, very nice to meet you. My name is Mathias."

 **Please Review!**


	4. Memories Replay

**Thank you for all the reviews! I'm so glad there are people who likes this story. Also, I think I forgot to mention this in the first AN, but there will be no pairings in this story. No DenNor; no SuFin; no HongIce. It's not that I don't like it: it's simply that romance just isn't my thing. It's fun to read sometimes, but write? No, I can't. I just can't. And anyways, in Finding Nemo, Marlin and Dory doesn't get together either, so in a way, I'm also just trying to stick to the original plot.**

 **Either way, here's the new chapter! It took some time, and it's still kind of horrible, but I think the next chapter should be up by tomorrow. This chapter is kind of filler, though, so sorry if it's kind of boring.**

 **Chapter Three**

Lukas didn't like Mathias very much. And the 'very much' is very much forced, just to make things a little milder, because even though the strange boy was loud and disturbing, he was nice, and it seems like he genuinely wants to help.

"You look terrible," Mathias announced after they shared names. "What did you do, walk into a pole? Punch your own face?"

"Why would I do that?" Lukas asked, slightly irritated.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe you found a mosquito on your face and you wanted to get rid of it…"

Lukas decided that holding conversation with this person was not going to help his mentality, so the pale boy started to excuse himself, only to be cut off by Mathias.

The boy had blinked several times just now, and he's again looking at Lukas with open interest written over his face. "Hello," he greeted cheerfully, "I'm Mathias! Pleased to meet you! You look terrible."

The injured teen shot the other a strange look. "Yes, I know. Thank you for repeating that."

"Okay, do you need help? I'll help you! I think I have something that can help with those scratches on your arm…" Mathias began digging through his jacket pockets, pulling out several small bottles that all appeared to be of medical use. "Ah yes," he exclaimed quietly as he found the right bottle. "This will help it not get infected, which is really important, you know. Infections hurt… Is there anything else? I have something for bruises, if you need it…"

Lukas didn't answer his question, but took both the medicine and the ointment for the bruises. He headed towards a nearby bench before beginning to apply it carefully. Mathias followed him, plopping into the space beside him.

"Where'd you get those bruises from? A gang?" asked Mathias, smirking slightly.

"Where'd you get these medicines from? Robbed the hospital?" Lukas shot back in his cold, monotone voice.

"Robbed the hospital?" Mathias laughed, shaking his head. "No, I robbed… Huh, where _did_ I get those from?"

Lukas shot him a look before returning to his mild injuries.

"So…"the taller blonde started again, "about those bruises…"

"It's none of your business." Lukas didn't mean for his snapping tone to be so harsh, but he didn't regret it. As long as Mathias would just stop nosing into his business.

Mathias raised his hands and shrugged. "'Kay, dude. Can't blame a guy for being curious. After all," Mathias glanced at Lukas's bruises, "those looked like somebody was beating you real hard. There are some things that you just really shouldn't hide, y'know?"

Lukas remained silent for a moment.

"He took my brother," he finally answered reluctantly, his voice barely loud enough for his companion to hear. "I couldn't do anything. I didn't know what to do. I promised to protect him, but I couldn't."

"A kidnapping…?" Mathias mused. "Do you know where they went?"

"I tried following them, but he was driving a truck, so it was… difficult." Lukas placed the ointment down beside him, between him and the other teen. Mathias took it and replaced it in his pocket.

"How did the guy look like?" he inquired.

"It was too dark," came the quiet answer, "but he was very big in stature. And very strong."

"The truck?"

Lukas pondered for a while, trying to remember. "It was… white," he began his description, "and it was a very normal looking truck. Nothing very suspicious about it. There were words decorating the side, a company name or something, I think, just like most trucks on the street… I think it said 'UDW'… I'm not sure, actually. I didn't see the plate number…"

"'UDW'…?" Mathias furrowed his brows. "That sounds strangely familiar. But either way, about that kidnapping, I'll help you! We should head straight to the police station. They'd help, y'know?"

"No, I don't want the police involved," Lukas rejected. "They didn't even do anything when-" _when his parents were killed._ All they did was look around the place, play detective, and in the end, the murderer was still out there, lurking in the shadows.

Mathias didn't push any further, and Lukas was grateful for it. They were still strangers to each other, and Lukas didn't feel comfortable revealing more than he already did.

After a long moment of silence, Mathias stood suddenly, stretching. "So… a white truck with 'UDW' on it…? Oh, I remember why it's so familiar!" His eyes brightened. "I saw the thing!"

Lukas blinked, surprised. He had not expected anyone to notice it.

"I came from… there," Mathias pointed in the direction he had came from, "and I think it turned… right. Must be right. I don't think I crossed the street…"

 _This guy's memory doesn't seem very strong_ , Lukas noted, slightly worried. Mathias is likely to be wrong, judging by his hesitant answers, but still, he's a chance.

"Can you show me exactly where you saw it and which direction it had gone? I want at least some idea where it might go." Lukas kept his voice neutral and calm, though his heart quickened slightly. This was a chance.

"Of course!" Mathias was eager to help. "Follow me!"

They took a turn, their pace quickening with every step, and by the time they crossed a street, they were full out running.

Lukas had no idea where Mathias was leading him, but for now, with no other clues, he could only follow.

They wounded round and round, and despite being familiar with the city, Lukas was getting dizzy and confused. He was quite sure they had passed that building earlier before…

Mathias halted so suddenly Lukas didn't have time to brake, and he slammed into the hard back. The taller blonde turned around to face Lukas, an angry expression etched on his face.

"What is wrong with you, huh? Can't someone get to where they want in peace?"

Lukas blinked, utterly confused. Wasn't Mathias the one who offered to…

"Why do you keep following me?" the other teen continued to fume. "What do you want from me? Where I go is none of your business!"

"Pardon?" Lukas attempted to play nice despite feeling aggravated. "You were the one who said you'd help me-"

He paused when Mathias took a step back, looking confused. He looked around for a moment, watching two police cars whiz down the road, their sirens wailing. Then his gaze returned to the other boy in front of him, and he blinked again, baffled. A grin made its way up his lips. "Hello, I'm Mathias!" he held out a hand. "How can I help you?"

 **Please Review!**


	5. Enter Underground

**Thank you all for the reviews! Here's the new chapter, as promised.**

 **Warning: minor swearing (about one swear word), and a crappy ending.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

There was something severely wrong with Mathias.

Lukas stared at the other boy, then at his outstretched hand, which he didn't take. "I…" he choked on his words. Then, he swallowed. Might as well restart. "I'm Lukas." And then he proceeded to repeat all he had told Mathias before the sudden forgetfulness.

"A white truck marked with 'UDW'…" Mathias pondered for a moment. "Oh, yes, I saw that! It went… that way!"

Lukas's heart plummeted. Mathias was pointing towards the exact opposite direction of where they had come from. "Okay…"

"Just follow me!" Mathias grabbed Lukas's arm, beginning to drag him towards that direction. However, Lukas resisted, twisting himself out of his grip and planting his feet on the ground.

"Now wait a minute," he snapped, "What is going on? You already told me which way the truck went, and it wasn't that way."

Mathias blinked. "I did?" Then, he sighed, "Oh, no…"

"If this is some kind of practical joke, it's not funny," Lukas continued. "I'm trying to find my brother and you-"

"No, no," the other boy shook his head frantically. "I know, I'm so sorry. See, I… well I suffer from um… short term memory loss, so…"

"Short term memory loss," Lukas repeated, his voice flatter than usual. "Really."

"Yes, really, it's true!" Mathias seemed desperate to convince him. "I barely remember anything that happens. I think the longest I could remember is up to… um… I know this, I do… about seven minutes, I think. I don't really remember, but that should be about it."

"That's nice," Lukas answered coolly.

"Yes, I know! I was born with it... or at least I think I was. Huh, was I born with it?" Mathias began to ponder, furrowing his brows and watching the cars pass them. Another police car screeched past.

Then, his face was wiped clean, and his gaze turned back to Lukas. A grin crawled up his face. "May I help you?"

This time, all Lukas did was stare at him. Then, he said, "There's something severely wrong with you."

Mathias blinked, confused. "I'm sorry, do I kno-"

"You're wasting my time," Lukas cut him off. "I'm sorry, but I have a kidnapped brother to find, and you're not helping." Then, he turned on his heels and began to walk away, only to be stopped by a feral grin and glinting blood red eyes.

"Did I just hear something about… a kidnapped brother?"

* * *

Lukas never realized just how pale albinos were until he actually met one. And it wasn't just their complexion, it was also their hair, their lips.

And Lukas thought he had been pale enough.

Then this man comes up to them, talking about kidnappings as if it was a very normal and frequent topic, and Lukas couldn't concentrate on the words because the man's skin was just so transparent, and his hair such a snowy white, and his eyes were so deep and red, like blood, or wine.

"Wow," Mathias said, dumbstruck, "you're so white."

The albino chuckled. "Now there, don't be racist. That's so not awesome. But yes, I know. Albinism is awesome, you know. So now, don't be unawesome and listen to the awesome me talk. I heard something about kidnapping, which is totally not awesome, by the way-"

"How are your eyes _red_?" Mathias asked, eyes wide as saucer plates.

The man looked annoyed. "Oi, didn't you hear me? I was talking about-"

"And your hair!" Mathias gestured wildly around his own head. "It's so… so white! It's like a beacon, like it's… glowing!"

"Stop being so unawesome," the man, whose favorite word was 'awesome', rolled his eyes. "But yes, it's annoying sometimes. You stand out, which is not good for me, especially during my awesome assassination missions-"

Lukas's blood froze. _Assassination_.

He placed a shaky hand on Mathias's shoulder, pushing him slightly and said, "Run."

Mathias reacted quickly to the one word, and the two of them sped down the street, away from the red-eyed killer.

"Wait a second, what's wrong?" the albino called after them. "Why are you running? Hey! Stop being so unawesome!"

To Lukas's immense horror, the voice seemed quite close. In fact, it sounds like he was right behind them…

A strong grip on their shoulders stopped them before they could cross the street, and Lukas glanced back to see the cocky smirk that revealed teeth so white it seemed to glow. The albino had one hand on Lukas's shoulder, another on Mathias's, and his grip was so tight it hurts. Then, he slung his arms around their shoulders as if they were the best of friends, and began dragging them back.

"Calm down, people," the assassin said, his voice humored, "Let's take a small walk, and see what we'll find."

* * *

To be truthful, Lukas was utterly terrified.

However, he has to admit, this man, who introduced himself as Gilbert Beilschmidt, knows quite a lot about kidnappings. But then, Lukas didn't want to know in detail what happens to some children who got kidnapped. No, those were pictures he did not like in his head.

"Where are we going?" Mathias asked, not a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"Somewhere we can discuss things safely, somewhere more private. I have friends, and we might have some idea of the kidnapping you were talking about."

 _He's going to kill us_ , Lukas thought. _We're dead_.

He almost expected Gilbert to lead them into a small alleyway, but instead, they entered a small apartment building. The silence in the elevator was stifling, and they stopped on the fifth floor.

The doors slid open silently, and they headed towards a door marked '502'.

By now, Lukas was beginning to relax. Gilbert might've been joking about the assassination stuff…

Two knocks rang out in the empty hallway, and from inside the apartment, Lukas heard a cheery voice call, "Who is it?"

"22020" Gilbert answered.

Immediately, the door flung open, revealing a man with messy brown hair and bright green eyes. His expression was open, happy, his voice warm and welcoming.

"Welcome back, Gilbert! Ah, who are these?" The man nodded at Mathias and Lukas in acknowledgement.

"I'm Mathias," the tall blonde exclaimed, just as cheerful.

"Lukas," the passive boy muttered.

"Hola, boys! I'm Antonio." the man ruffled their hair, despite Mathias being slightly taller than him. "Come on in, Francis just baked some cookies."

"Cookies!" Gilbert's eyes brightened, and he headed directly towards the table after kicking off his shoes.

A little yellow bird chirped, fluttering around the room before landing and settling on top of Gilbert's hair.

"Dude," Mathias stared, "That's a really cool bird."

"Kesesesese," Gilbert laughed. He swept the bird off his head with one hand, the other holding two cookies. "I thank you for the compliment on Gilbird's behalf-"

"Ohonhonhon," a new voice chuckled, and Lukas turned to see a man leaning on the kitchen door frame, an apron tied around his waist. He was carelessly handsome, with chin-length blonde curls, twinkling blue eyes, and a bit of stubble on his chin. "What've we got here?" His voice was smooth and luring, with a hint of a French accent.

The man, who Lukas could only assume was 'Francis', approached the two boys. He stopped before Lukas first, and he raised his chin with gentle fingers, as if examining the younger boy.

"Why did you bring back such pretty little boys, Gilbert?" Francis inquired as he released Lukas and moved to Mathias.

"I heard them talking about-"

"Are you gay?"

Mathias's words seemed to ring in the air, and even Lukas flinched at the sheer bluntness of the question.

No one spoke for a long time; all attention seemed fixed on Francis, who just stood there, eye twitching slightly in annoyance. Then finally, he moved, sighing, towards a cabinet, where he took out a bottle of wine and a cup. He filled the glass cup and headed towards the balcony, leaning onto the railing and gazing below. Lukas heard him say with a small sigh, "The night view of a city is always so mesmerizing…"

 _Honestly_ , Lukas decided, _I'm surrounded by people who obviously are not right in the head_.

And it wasn't just the strange reaction. There was a tall business building right outside their window, blocking out most of the view save for one street below them. A banner fluttered in the breeze, the words obscured by the darkness of night.

"Anyways," Gilbert interrupted the silence with an awkward cough, "I brought the two of them here because of kidnappings."

Antonio smile slipped off his face. "Kidnappings?"

"Yup," Gilbert stuffed another cookie in his mouth, "From what I've gathered from our way here, this little boy's brother," he stuck a thumb in the direction of Lukas, who bristled at being called a little boy, "has been kidnapped. The kidnapper was big, very tall, very strong, and he used a white truck-"

"Marked 'UDW'," Francis finished.

"Can you guys just stop interrupting me? I feel like every time I say something important somebody has to cut me off last second-"

"How did you know about 'UDW'?" Lukas shot at Francis, who entered the room again, placing his wine on the coffee table and plopping onto the couch.

Ignoring Gilbert's protests, Antonio said, "It's a long story."

Without hesitation, Lukas sat down stiffly on a stool, Mathias dropping to the ground beside him. "Speak."

"Well, about UDW…" Francis started after a moment of hesitation, "it's a company, I guess you can call it."

"Bullshit," Gilbert rolled his eyes. "It's more like an Organization."

"Well, either way," Antonio said, "UDW… stands for the Underworld. And most people who mess with the Underworld don't come out alive."

* * *

 **Please Review!**


	6. Racing with Death

**Thank you for all the reviews! Here's the new chapter! Once again, one little swear word, but no big deal, I'm sure.**

 **Chapter Five**

A banner fluttered in the air, the darkness smudging its words.

"On the outside, the UDW is a small company. It's like a trade center, selling gadgets and letting products pass through their watch to make money. They leech off of other people's businesses."

"However, they trade much more than just technology; weapons, drugs, poisons… humans. In a sense, they are the black market."

"The UDW, short for the Underworld, has branches that don't just include trade. Hacking is a big part, where prodigies were taken, trained, and hired to make money for the organization. Another major branch would be… assassins."

"Children taken to fight and guard the organization against imaginary threats, children forced to kill, hired to kill, and they are trained in such a way that there was no way to quench their bloodlust."

"Five years ago, the newest branch was opened, focusing on human experiments. Now, instead of executing the traitors or runaways, they are sent to the lab. No one knows where it is located other than the direct traders and messengers of the lab. They also take innocent children from the streets for experiments, reasons unknown. But either way, those who entered the lab were never seen again."

"So there are two major possibilities," Gilbert held up two fingers, "Either your brother will be forced to fight and kill, or he's hidden somewhere in this world, being injected with God-knows-what and undergoing God-knows-what."

Lukas had felt his heart sink with every word the Bad Touch Trio (as they had called themselves) said.

"You can choose one path to follow," Francis said, a thoughtful look on his face, "If you choose one, you cannot choose another. They will lead you down different roads, and you can't return."

Mathias had been surprisingly quiet throughout the whole ordeal. His expression was blank, the light was gone from his eyes.

"I-I don't know," Lukas stuttered slightly, his voice quiet. "I have no idea…"

"Do you have anything that might give a hint?" Antonio asked, genuinely concerned. "Like, something the kidnapper dropped or…?"

 _Something the kidnapper dropped…?_ Lukas remembered suddenly, and he dug out the note from his pocket. "I got this…"

Francis was the one who took the note, and he scanned it over, his expression grim. Then, he showed it to the other two.

"Erm… B. Oxenstierna, 42 Wallaby Street, Sydney," Gilbert read aloud.

"You can read that?" Lukas asked, slightly incredulous.

"Well, yeah," the albino rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "I mean, well, eh…"

Antonio and Francis both chuckled awkwardly along with Gilbert, and an awkward silence followed.

"How do you know so much about the Underworld?" Mathias asked suddenly.

The trio tensed. "Um…"

They shared uneasy glances before Antonio stood up abruptly, saying, "Follow me."

Mathias complied, and Antonio led him to one of the few rooms the small apartment had. Through the open doorway, Lukas saw pile after pile, row after row of cardboard boxes, their contents unknown.

"If you two are planning to storm into the Underworld to find a missing boy, you can't enter unarmed. You'll be dead in three seconds." The green eyed man spoke louder than usual so that Lukas could hear as well. There was a grunt as Antonio lifted some boxes and passed it to Mathias, then took a few himself. The two of them left the room, placing the boxes down as gently as they can.

Antonio continued after the burden has been released, "Well, lucky for the two of you, I work for the Underworld, and I also happen to be a trader."

Lukas froze, his heart skipping a beat.

"Unluckily for you- luckily for me, that is- I'm not a human trader. I specialize in weapons, drugs, and poisons, though weapons would be my main source of income." As if to prove his point, he pried open a box and pulled out two rifles.

Antonio… _works for the Underworld_.

Numbly, Lukas turned to look at Francis and Gilbert, who looked quite uncomfortable.

"You…" Lukas couldn't seem get his voice to work.

"I," Francis said with a flourish, though his voice was stiff, "am a hacker. I used to work for the Underworld; key words: _used to_. I quit, and they've been trying to track me down and kill me ever since."

"No one leaves the Underworld alive, and those who do will be hunted for the rest of their lives." Gilbert smirked, albeit a little sadly. "I was an assassin," he confessed.

Lukas froze. _A killer, right in front of him._

"But well," the albino fixed his red eyes on Lukas's dark blue ones, "you're not the only one who lost a younger brother." He looked away. "The Underworld took my younger brother to bribe me and force me to cooperate. They shipped him off to somewhere, and I've never seen him since. I escaped the Underworld, making sure to leave as much corpses in my wake as I could, and now, I'm here. They desperately want me dead, but don't know how to get me killed without stirring up a racket."

"I'm still working for the Underworld," Antonio piper up, polishing a knife, "but it's for spying reasons. We three have a goal: a big goal, a wild one." A smile crept up his face. "We want to bring down the Underworld."

"It's crazy, yeah, and we're really bad off, but there are people on our side, others who are also willing to work against an organization." Gilbert's smirk grew. "You should meet Vlad sometime. He's one of the strangest people you'll ever meet."

"This is sick!" Mathias exclaimed, examining a dagger. "Where can you even _get_ these stuff?"

"It's called the black market," Antonio answered cheerfully.

"Whoa…" Mathias held the weapon up to watch it glint against the light. "Is there anything else?"

Antonio chuckled. "There's a sword in here that you might like."

"Is there a battle axe?"

"I think that's one of the few weapons we're lacking…"

"That's sad." Mathias looked like a little kid, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, is this a machine gun?" He began to pick up the dagger to replace it in the box, but his hand slipped, and Lukas watched almost in slow motion as the blade cut a long gash across the teen's palm. Blood began to seep from the wound.

 _Blood._

 _'…and they are trained in such a way that there was no way to quench their bloodlust.'_

From the side of his vision, Lukas caught a glimpse of red, and he heard a low growl, not unlike one of a feral beast.

"Shit," Francis swore.

Lukas's eyes shifted to Gilbert, who still sat on the couch. However, his posture was tense, restrained, and his muscles were quivering with the strain. Unsteady breaths left his pale lips, and when he finally looked up, his blood red eyes seemed to glow.

And then, he _moved_.

Gilbert seemed to disappear: he was nothing but a white blur, and suddenly, there was the dagger in his hand, and he was in front of Mathias, sniffing in the air, taking in the scent of blood.

There was something strange in his posture, something that didn't seem quite… human. Gilbert looked like a starved animal, and his whole body jerked with each sudden movement.

 _"Blood…"_ he growled, lifting the dagger over his head and-

"Run!" Lukas shouted. Mathias reacted quickly to the one word, and he dodged at the last second. The dagger imbedded into the wall behind him.

"Door!" Antonio was the one to shout as he grabbed Gilbert's arm. Francis was next to him, struggling to pin down Gilbert's other limb.

"Flee, my dears," the Frenchman called, "Flee far, far away and never look back!"

And that was exactly what they did.

The two teenagers tore out the door, down the hall, skidding to a halt in front of the elevator. They pressed the button, watching the box excruciatingly slowly lift from the first floor towards the second floor.

Mathias desperately pushed the button a few more times before throwing his hands up in defeat when it didn't do anything. "Screw this!"

"Stairs!" Lukas pointed, and they flung themselves at it, basically flying down the steps. Just as they landed on the fourth floor, they heard frantic swearing from above.

Gilbert had escaped.

"Faster," he hissed at Mathias, who pushed himself onwards.

There was a glint of metal, and the two turned just in time for a knife to imbed itself deep into the wall seconds where Mathias's head was.

"Lukas!" Mathias hollered as they thundered down to the second floor, "Why are we running? Are we being chased or something? Tag?"

 _God help me_ , Lukas internally groaned, _he forgot already._ Though strangely enough, Mathias hadn't seemed to have forgotten about him.

If he wasn't busy trying to escape a murderous albino, Lukas might've rolled his eyes and answered. But the truth was, they _were_ being chased, so he didn't bother to reply. It was also a little hard to speak when your lungs don't seem to be catching up with your need of air.

The two teens burst out of the apartment building, desperately looking for a way out.

The huge banner of the company building fluttered slowly in the night breeze.

It was midnight. There was no one else on the streets, no crowds for them to blend into.

Lukas felt a hand on his shoulder and flinched violently, but it was only Mathias, who then beckoned quickly. "Follow me."

They crossed the street towards the building, and Lukas followed Mathias as the taller teen swerved to one side, continuing towards the back of the building. There was an open window there, which Mathias pried open more so that he could fit through.

"Follow me," he repeated, and swung himself into the building with ease. Lukas entered as well, albeit less graceful and with many more hesitations. Was this considered breaking and entering?

They were in a meeting room of some sorts. There was a long table with a few drawers, lined with comfortable chairs, and a smart board at the front.

"Certain rooms don't have traps," Mathias said. There was something strange about him, Lukas noticed, the way his face was completely, eerily blank, and those light blue eyes seemed to glow in the dark. His voice was monotone, dull, as if his soul was far, far away, trying to control his body and make it form words. "We should be able to escape if we avoid-"

He stopped at that moment when the sound of metal grating against concrete reached their ears, and the noise grew louder and louder until it stopped, right outside their window.

Neither of the two moved a muscle.

However, after some time of anxious waiting, no assassin entered.

"He's afraid," Mathias realized, his strange mien unchanging. "He will not enter the building."

"Why not?" Lukas asked, his voice barely above a whisper in fear of being heard.

Mathias pointed briefly at the fluttering banner outside before moving cautiously towards the table, sliding open one of the drawers.

Lukas was focused on the banner, trying to make out the words, but it was too dark, so he started forward, footsteps light. He peered out of the window slightly, and nearly ducked down again. Gilbert was outside, pacing, still like a wild beast. His blood red eyes glinted in the dim light, and the weapon in his hand seemed to glow silver. The pale teen took a step back to stay out of Gilbert's field of vision, but continued to concentrate on the banner.

A late night taxi drove past, temporarily lighting up its surroundings with its bright headlights.

Behind him, Mathias slid open another drawer, digging around the contents inside. There were several clinks, and a prominent click, but Lukas ignored it as he squinted at his moving target.

Letter by letter, he began to read, and to his relief, then horror, there were only three letters.

 _"They desperately want me dead…"_

 _"He's afraid. He will not enter the building."_

Lukas was rooted in spot, too shocked to move.

The banner continued to flutter slowly, it's three letters standing out in a bold black.

 **UDW**

"Mathias," Lukas exhaled, barely audible.

"Mathias," he repeated, a little louder. But when the other boy still didn't reply, Lukas finally forced himself to move, turning around to call the other blonde one more time.

He found the amnesic boy staring at one corner of the room, where Lukas noticed for the first time a tiny red glow.

A security camera.

Slowly, as if he was under a spell, Mathias raised his hand, metal glinting. He had a gun in his hand.

The small part of Lukas's brain that was still functioning wondered where Mathias found the gun, and his dark blue eyes darted quickly to the open drawers, then back at Mathias, then the security camera.

Mathias aimed, his hands steady, as if he had done it a hundred times before, and the sound seemed to pierce through Lukas's head and imbed his soul onto the ground of the building of the organization that took his younger brother.

The moment the trigger was pulled, the moment the security cameras shattered, sirens began to wail. The window, their escape, snapped shut with camouflaged mechanisms, locking them in, and from places Lukas couldn't see, gas began to spout and permeate the room.

Gilbert had vanished, no doubt to escape the groping claws of the Underworld.

Mathias acted quickly. He grabbed Lukas's hand and began pulling him, running, out the meeting door, and down a long hallway. The gas was filling every corner of the building; the exits were all shut and sealed.

But the strange boy did not falter. With one hand holding Lukas, another a gun, he aimed a rapid succession of bullets on the hinges of the bullet-proof doors, and rammed right into the heavy glass doors. Lukas was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and he knew it was the influence of the gas. However, when the hinges gave way, the sudden exposure to fresh air sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He broke out running along with Mathias, and they took several quick turns down the streets to disappear from sight. Far behind them, shouts of the UDW guards arose as they beheld the broken doors, gas continuing to stream out, dispersing in the night air.

Lukas and Mathias turned one last time, into a small, hidden alleyway, where they slumped against the wall, panting. The adrenaline began to fade, and the poison they had inhaled began to do its job.

"Well, that was one intense game of tag," Lukas heard Mathias say between gasps before his eyes slid shut and darkness took over the minds of the two teenagers.

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	7. Creatures from Hell

**Thank you for all the reviews! New chapter, finally up. Wish you enjoy!**

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

The first thing he felt was a small throb that travelled from his fingertips up to his elbow. Then slowly, steadily, the pulse grew, until it was painful. His entire arm felt like it was being splintered into many small pieces, and the pain only grew until his mind finally woke fully, and he cried out, shooting up, and tearing his eyes open against the light so he could figure out what exactly was wrong with him.

It took some time for his eyes to adjust, and even after that, the edges of his vision was fuzzy with pain.

At first, all he could make out was that he was on a hard, narrow bed, like the ones in hospitals. He was in an empty white room, all alone. Somebody had changed his clothes: his new garments were thin and scratchy, and the air around him was cold, freezing even.

His eyes began to pick up the minor details: the near invisible white door in one corner, the white lights stationed at almost every angle around him, and the white bandages that wounded up his right arm, throbbing with pain.

Slowly, left hand trembling, he began to unravel his hand. Beneath the bandages was a horrifying sight, something gnarled and twisted and _unnatural_ , latched onto his arm. It took him a moment to realize it _was_ his arm.

His breathing began to quicken, his heartbeat accelerated as he stared at his crippled hand.

Then Emil turned to the side, and threw up over the side of the bed.

* * *

He didn't know how long he stayed in the overly bright room, just staring at his ruined arm. The flesh from his elbow downwards was a mess of hot red scars and random bumps. Out of morbid curiosity, he had poked one of the little hills dotting his arm, and immediately, the pain the rattled his nerves informed him that that had been a misplaced fracture of his bone.

Emil threw up again after that.

His fingers were crooked and gnarled, his skin wrinkly and gray like an old man's. Strangely enough, despite the pain and seemingly broken bones, he could still move and manipulate his fingers. It was strange to watch and horrifying to see, and when the door opened, he was still staring at his weakly twitching fingers.

A person dressed in a white coat entered, the expensive, polished shoes clicking on the white tiled floors.

"Stand up." It was a cold female voice, and Emil didn't pay it much attention other than to obey her command. The ground was icy beneath his bare feet, and he shivered, still staring down at his hand. There was still vomit on the floor, but neither the woman nor Emil cared.

"Follow me."

Emil didn't protest. The white hallway outside the room wasn't as cold, but it couldn't be considered warm either. He rubbed his left hand up and down over his upper right arm, where the skin was still smooth and white, and the bone was still strong.

She stopped so suddenly he almost walked into her. For the first time since his shocking discovery, he looked up from his hand, glancing once at the cold, unforgiving face of the pale haired woman, then at the door in front of them. She pulled out a key from her lab coat which she inserted into the lock, twisted, and then pushed the door open, grabbing Emil roughly and pushing him inside.

There were bars inside the room. A group of people cluttered in one corner behind the bars, and Emil followed the woman down the unbarred area of the room to arrive at another locked door.

He knew what was happening. He knew where he was going, but for some reasons, he couldn't make his legs to move. He couldn't run away.

Obediently, he walked into the unlocked cage, not even hesitating.

The door slammed shut behind him, the metal bars rattling.

The woman's high heels clicked on the white floor as she left the room, locking the doors.

A little dazed, Emil turned around, his uninjured arm slowly raising to grasp the bars and pulling on them weakly. They were so thick his small twelve years old hands could barely circle around them.

"C-Ciao…" a small, timid voice piped up from the corner.

Emil turned to look at the four other occupants of the cell, but none of them seemed to have spoken. They were all looking at him, yes, but none of their lips moved as the voice continued, "A-Are you new here? Nice to meet you, my name is Feliciano."

If his mind was any clearer, Emil would've thought this place was haunted, and maybe internally freak out a little.

But then, the strangest question popped up, "Do you have pasta?"

Emil blinked. "…No…"

"Oh," the unidentifiable voice sighed. "That's sad. I love pasta, you see, but they don't ever give me any. Do you like pasta?" It was beginning to grow stronger, louder, and warmer, and seemed to be nearing Emil by the way it sounded closer, and there were slight sounds of feet padding on the floor. None of the four he could see had moved. Suddenly, just for one quick moment, Emil could've sworn he saw a flash of brown hair, and the afterimage of a hopeful smile. But then, it was gone, and he could've been hallucinating for all he knew.

"What is your name?" A curl bounced in the air before disappearing. There was a flicker of a shadow.

"Emil," he answered impassively.

"Ciao, Emil." And then he saw it, and this time, Emil was definite he wasn't going mad.

Color began to leak into the empty space several feet away from him, and a figure began to form. It was a boy of average height, wearing the same white T-shirt and pants as Emil, with light brown hair and golden brown eyes. A strange curl stuck out from one side of his head, and with his open expression and closed-eye smile, he looked a little goofy.

Emil stared, barely able to believe his eyes. A person had just _appeared_ in front of him from _thin air_.

"Feliciano is able to camouflage." One of the people in the corner spoke up. The person stood wobbly, offering Emil a small, strained smile. He couldn't be much older than Feliciano, but the way his legs shook as he walked and the shadows and weariness on his face and skin made him seem much older. The boy was Asian with neat black hair and blank brown eyes that was soft at the same time. "My name is Kiku."

"Ve~" Feliciano sang, skipping over to the frail boy and helping to steady him. "Kiku is one of my best friends!" He smiled widely at Emil, who was slightly amazed at how happy the childish teenager seemed to be, his personality unhindered by the gloomy setting.

One by one, the others stood as well. All of them were boys, Emil had to guess, since one of them looked like he could be both.

A man with blonde hair slicked back from his forehead and light blue eyes stumbled to Kiku and Feliciano. Like the Asian, his movements were strained and tired, but he did not look frail or unhealthy the way Kiku was. In fact, the one thing he did not lack was muscles. One major difference Emil noticed, however, was that there were thick metal cuffs around the man's wrists and ankles that seemed to weigh him down.

"I'm Ludwig." The man raised a hand with difficulty. Feliciano smiled, his bubbly attitude never popping, and pecked Ludwig quickly on one cheek.

"Ludwig's also my best friend," he piped. "He helps me a lot!"

Ludwig sighed, a little embarrassed by the brunette's display of affection. "Yes, yes, Feli. Be careful with Kiku now, yes, steady… good." Then he shifted a little and gestured to the last two people behind him. The person that looked both feminine and masculine was squinting at Emil with bright, catlike eyes. He had straight shoulder-length blonde hair, neatly groomed, and was extremely pale. Then again, all of their skins were pretty light, probably due to being trapped here for so long.

The man beside the girly boy had relatively dark skin that had gone waxy with the lack of sunlight. He had short, dark brown hair, and looked to be around his middle ages. The top half of his face was obscured by a silver mask, and his nose twitched curiously.

"Strange one we've got here," the masked man remarked. He strode forward with caution in every step, and he stopped before Emil, bent over till his face was centimeters from Emil's. "You are… twelve. Young blood, young voice. But strangely enough, you smell like smoke. Do you smoke, little boy?"

"Smoke?" the green-eyed boy pouted for no apparent reason. Even his voice sounded girly. "He can't possibly smoke! He's twelve!" Then suddenly, he rolled his eyes at himself and said in a more serious tone, "Well, it doesn't seem like he'll live very long." He gasped, placing a hand on his chest in mock horror and offense. "How can you say that, Feliks? That's not nice!"

Emil stared at 'Feliks', who continued to converse with himself.

The last unnamed man huffed quickly and shook his head. "That's Feliks, I'm Sadik. Honestly, I could hear his personalities switching."

"Personalities…" Emil swallowed, glancing up at the taller man.

"Yes. As you can see, we're not exactly… normal." He gave another huff-like gasp of laughter. "Feliciano can camouflage at will, turn invisible; Kiku could see anything and through anything he wants; Ludwig has super strength and super speed, thus the weights. Me, I have smell and hearing millions times more sensitive than a normal human. And then Feliks… he could sense emotions and life forces, and always knows the exact time and date a person is going to die. Impressive, isn't it?"

The room was silent save for Feliks, who was still arguing with himself. Feliciano's smile faltered, and Ludwig and Kiku looked away.

Something in Emil's stomach plummeted at the silence. He swallowed again. "But…"

"Ah, smart one!" Sadik laughed then, a real bark of amusement that echoed on the white walls. "But. Of course there's a 'but'." The laugh receded, replaced by a bitter smile. "But: Feli has the maturity of a five year old's; but: Kiku is frail and weak and unhealthy." He placed a hand on his mask, gripping it tightly. "Ludwig is always hungry, starving, and Feliks is completely, utterly nuts." He took off his mask then, and it clattered to the white tiled floors. Emil stumbled away from him, because what he saw was _horrible_. Scar tissue had blemished the otherwise handsome face; his eyes had been dug up from his sockets, red and white and empty and _horrifying_. "But: at first, I could see so well, and the world was so bright, until it was painful to the extent that I had to dig out my own eyes."

Emil backtracked slowly until his back hit the thick bars with a metallic clatter. Five monsters stood before him, predators and victims, all rolled into one.

Feliciano's smile was gone, Kiku had collapsed to the floor, and Ludwig sat slowly. Feliks stopped talking, but trained his half-lidded green eyes on the youngest boy, smiling dreamily. Sadik grinned.

"So, little boy, what are you?"

* * *

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	8. Where Sinners and Innocents Meet

**Thank you for all the reviews!**

 **VII**

Emil never knew that silence could echo, but that's what it did now, bouncing off the walls and stuffing itself into his ears and mind.

 _"What are you?"_

He felt like he was suffocating. His chest felt tight, he couldn't breathe. Emil's left hand gripped his right arm tighter until it was almost painful.

 _"What am I?"_

It was a question truly worth pondering. How long had he been out? What had happened when he was unconscious? What did they, whoever they are, do to his arm? Emil's dark violet eyes darted to each of the other room's residents' faces. They all are able to do something inhumane, but had to pay a price, some worse than others.

Was his arm the price he had to pay? If so, what did he gain?

Emil's train of thought was halted by the sound of footsteps nearing the door. They stiffened, and all of them glanced towards the locked metal door, holding their breath with trepidation.

There was a click, then the door was pushed open quietly, revealing a young man with light blonde hair and dark blue-brown eyes. He was slightly on the small side, and there was a wide smile on his face and a small spring in his step that Emil couldn't believe exist in such a depressing place.

The others gave a collected sigh of relief when they saw the man, even though he also wore the white lab coats and expensive clothes that the woman had worn.

"Tino," Ludwig nodded at the scientist. The scientist waved back at him before stepping in and closing the door behind him.

"Sorry, I'm a little late," he apologized quickly. "Berwald stacked a bunch of papers on my desk and told me to finish everything before three." He sighed, looking dejected. "At this rate, I'll work myself to death!"

"More like _he'll_ work you to death," Sadik said. He was rummaging on the ground, searching for the mask he had dropped. Apparently, despite the enhanced senses, lack of sight was still hindrance.

Tino had seemed quite disheartened by Sadik's words. "Berwald's not _that_ bad… most of the time. It's just Natalia. Sharing an office with her really isn't easy."

Apparently it was amusing, because a few people snorted.

"That's about the fortieth time you've complained about her, Tino." Kiku smiled slightly.

Tino shrugged, then glanced down at the clipboard in his hand, tapping it with a pen as he skimmed it over. "Uh…" he looked up, and for the first time, it seems as if he noticed Emil. "Hello there!" he greeted cheerfully. "You must be the new one. What is your name?"

Emil answered hesitantly. "Emil. My name is Emil."

"Nice," Tino nodded, glancing down at the clipboard again. "So… I'm required to gather some information about you for this thing. Well then, how do you feel right now, Emil?"

"Physically or emotionally?" Emil shot back, glancing at the others with slight annoyance.

"Physically." Tino answered.

"Most people here wouldn't _care_ about how we feel emotionally," Feliks added bitterly.

Emil decided to ignore him, despite knowing the truth of those words. "I feel fine."

"That's good." Tino scribbled it down. He then pointed at Emil's hand with his pen. "I see you've already taken off the bandages."

He didn't reply.

"Your arm is still healing. It'd be best if I get you more bandages…"

"It could heal?" There was a sudden blossom of hope.

"Logically speaking, yes." Tino seemed thoughtful. "The pain will definitely decrease significantly, and you might be able to function it properly again. Though considering how your bone had splintered almost completely…"

Emil swallowed.

Tino suddenly apologized, "Sorry, I probably shouldn't have said anything."

The younger boy just shook his head, his grip around his arm tightening.

"So… Emil, how old are you?"

"Twelve," he muttered.

"Twelve?" Tino repeated. There was a heavy sigh. "You're twelve."

"Yes."

Tino sighed again. "Twelve. Oh God above, you poor boy."

Emil nodded. He was the youngest in here. Obviously, that's something extremely unfortunate.

But Feliciano asked, genuine concern in his voice, "Is something wrong?" As if it wasn't because of his youth, but something more.

Tino's shoulders slumped, and his arms slackened, the clipboard and pen hanging limply in his fingers. "So that's what he meant. Berwald has been talking about Peter."

At the mention of the name, everyone tensed again, and Sadik threw in a few curse words for extra effect.

"Last time Peter was here, before he left" Tino continued slowly, "he said he wanted somebody his age to play with him. Berwald… agreed. Recently, he's been talking about Peter coming over again. And apparently, Berwald has a present for him."

"Oh my god…" Ludwig groaned.

"Who is Peter?" Emil spoke, slightly confused.

"Peter is Berwald's nephew," Tino told him, his voice gentle. "He is exceptionally bright for his age, and had decided to follow his uncle's footsteps… to work here."

"Last time he was here, he chose one." Kiku gestured weakly around him. "That one never came back."

Emil was frozen in place. He couldn't breathe. "Dead…?"

Suddenly, Feliciano burst into tears.

Feliks wrinkled his nose at the sobbing brunette, but said humbly, "It was his brother."

 _His brother._

Feliciano had a brother, just like him. But Feliciano's brother was dead. Lukas wasn't. But if Emil stayed here… he would never see Lukas again. There would be no hope at all if he died; if he was killed like Feliciano's brother in the hands of a…

"How old is Peter?"

"Twelve." Tino's voice was barely audible. "I'm sorry, Emil, but Peter, he insisted. Berwald lets him do whatever he wants. Next time he comes, he'll choose you."

He was going to _die_.

Breathing was painful, even more so than his crippled hand. His mind felt like it was tearing itself apart, but when he forced out his words, they were steady.

"Where am I?"

There was no answer.

"Where am I?" his voice began to shake. "How did I get here? What is this place?!"

"You like, seriously don't know?" Feliks looked at him with that haughty, half-lidded gaze. He rolled his eyes to himself. "Of course you don't know." There was a momentary pause. "You are in a place where sinners and innocents meet, and are forced to work together against something they can't see. We call this place," he gestured around him, "the Tank. As in, like, a fish tank. This is the tank: and we're totally the fish."

The blonde had made it sound extremely sarcastic, but Emil knew it was the truth.

"Why?" he urged. "Why is there such place like this?"

"Where does a fish tank stay?" Feliks shot back before answering his own question. "In a house, of course. Where is the house? In the world. Well then, there's like, your answers."

"We're in the Underworld," Ludwig translated. "We are trapped in a fish tank, in a house that belongs to the Underworld."

"The Underworld," Emil repeated.

"Known more commonly as the UDW," Tino said.

UDW… there was something familiar about the those letters.

"It's like a company, on the outside, that is, but once you enter…" Tino's eyes were downcast. "You regret it so, so much."

Before Emil could squeeze in another question, the room door suddenly slammed open. Everyone jumped, and Tino immediately looked to his clipboard again, the pen twirling in his hand.

The same woman that had brought Emil to this room entered again, and she wasn't alone. She was pushing a wheelchair, where a figure sat, back hunched and limbs restrained tightly.

The person looked dangerous.

Was she bringing him _here_?

"Tino." The woman acknowledged him, giving him a curt nod.

The scientist's voice was as blank as his expression as he greeted back, "Natalia."

The woman, Natalia, fiddled with the keys and unlocked the barred door. No one moved to try to escape.

She pushed the wheelchair half way in, then clicked something at the back of the chair, and the person's restraints fell away.

"Get off," she commanded coldly.

The person obeyed, but collapsed immediately after he stood.

Natalia didn't pay him any attention, only locking the door again, though Tino did flinch slightly.

"By the way, Tino," Natalia spoke, "Berwald is calling for you. He's arranging his nephew's trip here, and wants Peter to have fun." When she said the name, her cold, dark blue eyes quickly and discreetly darted in Emil's direction.

Tino nodded, and the two scientists began to file out, Natalia first. As Tino closed the door, he locked eyes with Emil, and those soft eyes were filled with concern.

And then, the door was bolted and secured, and the footsteps faded away.

Finally, Emil returned his attention to the person that had just entered. He had messy, wheat colored hair, and there was a large, heavy-looking metal cast around his hands. They dragged him down as he struggled to a sitting position.

Then, he noticed the scars. There were scars all across the newcomer's body, slicing up his arm and marring the handsome face. Just what had he gone through to make him like this?

Sadik had gone forward to help the person stand. Slowly, they began to limp past, but stopped in front of Emil.

The person turned his head slowly, and Emil was caught under a piercing gaze, captivated by the dark green eyes that glinted with intelligence, but was dampened by sorrow and death. Those eyes narrowed. The man's voice had a hint of a sneer in it as he muttered, "A child."

Even after they had gone to the other side of the room, Emil still felt like he was immobilized. There was something strangely familiar about this stranger.

When the person had settled down against a wall, he spoke, his voice cold and deep, but somewhat pleasant and genteel. "What's your name, boy?" He had a strong British accent.

It took Emil a moment to realize that he was being addressed. "Um… Emil."

"Well, nice to meet you, Emil. I'm Arthur." The man casually crossed his legs in front of him and let his heavily casted arm to fall to the floor on either sides. "How are you enjoying this place so far?"

"Not very much," he answered truthfully.

Arthur chuckled slightly. "Not surprised. This is how the world is." Then, he smirked. "Welcome to the Underworld."

 **Please review! It's very much appreciated.**


	9. Between Killers and Murderers

**Thank you for all the reviews! They're so encouraging! Wish you all enjoy the newest chapter! :)**

* * *

 **Chapter Eight**

Lukas stirred to the sound of screaming. Very distant screaming, but screaming nonetheless. Well, that is, if you can even hear the screaming past the heavy bass and enthusiastic drums.

He cracked an eye open groggily, and his surroundings were dark enough that he wasn't blinded immediately. What time was it? How long were they out?

At the thought, Lukas jerked away fully. It was dusk, apparently, so they might have slept through the-

There was a whisper of unwanted movement in the shadows.

Far away, the strange music continued, beating on their drums and screaming on.

There was a glint of metal in the dimming light, and fast as an asp, it struck. Lukas rolled, just in time. A knife was embedded on the brick wall where his head was seconds ago, and now only a few inches from Mathias's face.

"Mathias!" Lukas shouted as a warning, and the boy groaned as he slowly woke.

Lukas's attention shifted to the person holding the knife, and nearly jolted.

It was a boy who couldn't be past the age of fifteen. Large headphones covered his ears, and even with the distance, Lukas could hear the screaming and bass from the device- the source of the sound that had woke him. The boy seemed Asian, with neat dark brown hair and dark golden eyes, though his eyebrows were disturbingly thick.

It was an assassin.

A _child_ assassin.

Metal grated against stone as the boy retracted the knife, and the sound woke Mathias up.

"Whoa!" he yelped as the assassin attacked him next. Mathias leapt to his feet, attempting to escape somehow, but the boy was fast- impossibly fast.

One slice, and blood sprayed; Mathias's right arm dangled, useless, by his side.

Lukas tried to tackle the boy, while Mathias, despite his injury, shot out a foot to trip the assassin. He avoided both attacks, but Lukas anticipated that. So he kicked out, his foot connecting with the boy's stomach, hard enough to leave a bruise.

The assassin's grip on his knife had loosened in the sudden bloom of pain, so Mathias pried it from his grasp, and with a quick shout, Lukas and Mathias dashed out of the small alley, into the falling night.

Except Mathias's arm was still bleeding, even though he feebly attempted to patch it up a little while they ran, and the assassins of the Underworld feed on blood.

The metallic scent was almost soothing.

The assassin smiled, a feral, wicked grin.

* * *

Lukas could sense something behind them, watching them, and he knew it was the assassin. Just like Gilbert, the boy is probably attracted by the blood that was leaking out of Mathias's wound.

"We need to hide," he murmured to the taller blonde. "Somewhere that will mask your scent of blood."

Mathias frowned. "The boy is a dog?"

"No."

"Then what is he?"

"An assassin."

"Oh."

Lukas sighed, while Mathias peeked into his shirt at his injury. They were sprinting, or running as fast as they could while Mathias kept getting distracted by his wound.

The gears were turning in Lukas's head. Somewhere to hide…

"The sewers."

Lukas blinked, looked at Mathias, who was staring intently at the ground, as if he could split it open with his gaze alone.

"If we need to hide a scent, the sewers would be best right now."

Lukas swallowed, but nodded. "But how…?"

Mathias grinned, twirling the assassin's knife in his left hand and quickly eyeing the ground again. "Simple."

* * *

The sewers were exactly the way Lukas imagined: not pleasant. It was dark and moist, though the smell certainly hid theirs. However, the stench was also enough to make him feel a little lightheaded, and Mathias had to steady him several times so he doesn't fall into the… water. Because it's water. It's totally just water.

Mathias, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content and right at home. He didn't seem to have trouble seeing, or breathing, and was even quietly whistling a tune.

Lukas almost thought the boy might have night vision, except he said, "Whoa, it's quite dark in here, isn't it?"

"Yes," Lukas muttered, trying not to empty his… empty stomach from the smell. If his surroundings were less nasty, he would've felt hungry, but currently…

"Cool! Someone's talking to me!" Even through the darkness, Lukas could see Mathias's grin. "Are you my conscience?"

What? But Lukas was too weary to say anything else, so he replied, "Yes. This is your conscience. Hello Mathias."

"Hi!" he greeted back cheerfully. "This is so exciting: I'm talking to my conscience!"

"Yes, yes," Lukas sighed. "Though I think first thing we should do is get some light. It's too dark."

Mathias was nodding. "My conscience, you are wise, and quite right. It'd certainly be best if we find some- oh look, light!"

Lukas blinked, staring forward, and indeed, there was a bobbing light, far in the distance. He tensed, halting, and pulling Mathias back when the blonde continued walking.

"Who is it," he hissed.

The taller boy blinked. "Hi, Lukas. There's light over there, let's go and greet it!"

Before he could grab him again, Mathias took off running, his shoes slapping on the damp floor. "Hey there, share some light with us!"

Lukas had no choice but to follow, though he was as cautious as ever.

The person holding the light seemed to be an inspector or something of the kind. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit and thick white gloves, along with a large yellow safety cap on his head. Only strands of his dark hair poked out from beneath the hat, and the top part of his face was hidden in the shadows. He held a flashlight in one gloved hand, and pointed it at their direction when Mathias called out.

"What are y'all, like, doing down here." The worker had a strange accent, Chinese, possibly, but at the same time sounded British. "Like, it's dangerous. And dirty. Do you want me to like, help you two out or something?"

"Oh, we're fine," Mathias chirped happily, even though Lukas was gesturing at him to shut up. "We just need some light."

"Cool," the person with the flashlight flashed them a gloved peace sign. "We should like, keep walking. I have a job, you know."

The two blondes nodded and turned, beginning to walk down the way they had come. The worker followed behind them, shining the flashlight in their path.

The person spoke while they strolled through the humid, stinky air, "Like, I don't know why you're down here, but I like, won't care for now. As long as you like, don't get me fired, then I'll be happy with y'all, like really." There was the sound of shuffling clothes behind them as he searched through his pockets for something. "Though well, I'm already kind of not happy with you two, because like-" there was a prominent click and the flashlight's path stopped, and Lukas and Mathias halted as well, slightly confused, "You may or may not have taken my favorite knife."

"Lukas!" Mathias shouted, as a gun fired behind them. The taller blonde pushed the other boy out of the way just in time, and Lukas's shoulder slammed against the slick wall, throbbing painfully.

There were several muttered curses behind them. The assassin abandoned his hat and unzipped the sweltering suit. He stepped out as Mathias charged, and with a quick sweep of his foot, tripped the older boy. He aimed several bullets, but the blonde was quick, and he rolled out of the way. However, Lukas heard a small yelp as one grazed his side.

Lukas struggled to his feet, and the assassin noticed. A bullet whizzed past his ear, missing, but much too close. From the corner of his eye, he noticed something rectangular… and hard…

The boy cried out as blood gushed from a wound on his leg, courtesy of Mathias and the stolen knife. He staggered, but didn't fall, and only pulled out a small dagger which he plunged towards Mathias's injury- which was still oozing blood. The blonde yelled as another gash appeared on his arm.

The flashlight had rolled to one side, illuminating a small section of the sewers.

There was blood in Mathias's hair, on his face, on his torn shirt, and there was also blood on the assassin, who clutched his injured leg with a hiss.

He didn't notice another person sneaking up on him until Lukas slammed the brick onto the side of his head.

* * *

The assassin was confused, as he had been most of his life. He had been confused of why his siblings and he had to live on the streets, why his elder brother always came home so late. Why couldn't they go to school? Why were they starving?

But when the world changed and wasn't just the wind and the cold and money- or lack thereof- he was confused as to why they had to do things like this. Why did they have to take his second eldest brother? Where did his eldest brother go? Why was his sister crying? Why were they fighting? Why were they being separated?

What was his name?

His mentor had given him a different one as he trained him. His brothers called him a different name as they worked.

Who was he?

You are powerful, they told him, even as they took his mentor away. His mentor might've been strict, and a little cold, but at least he had cared.

 _I don't do children_ , he had said, _but there are things I can't not do. There are lines for everything. Find your own._

Years had passed, and yet he still couldn't find the answers.

File after file of faces and names, he stained his hands with blood. How could he look at his beautiful sister anymore?

So even though the wound hurts, it was strangely comforting, like it was a string tying him to reality. When the rock slammed into the side of his head, when he saw stars, the assassin felt no wrath, and he thought those stars were the most beautiful things he had ever seen in his short fifteen years of life.

Perhaps, this was finally the end.

* * *

Lukas's chest felt tight; he couldn't breathe, not like the air was nice to breathe anyway. But the brick suddenly felt so much heavier in his hands, and he flung the rock away.

The assassin was slumped against the moldy walls, his golden eyes unfocused, his body twitching slightly. But despite the concussion, the boy raised his gaze to catch Lukas's, and his lips moved, uttering a single word: _Please_.

What was he begging for? Lukas wondered as he bent slowly and picked up the gun that had spun out of the boy's hand when he was struck. With trembling fingers, he brought it up, straightened, and steadied it towards the boy.

The boy, he realized, who was crying. The small body racked with silent sobs, even though he kept his face tilted up, gazing at Lukas- and the gun in his hand.

 _Please._

Was he begging for release? Or was it mercy? Were the tears falling out of fear? Or was it falling from guilt?

"Who are you," Lukas breathed.

The boy's voice cracked and shuddered as he replied, "I don't know."

"Who sent you."

This time, he had an answer. "The Underworld."

"Why?" Lukas's voice was barely audible.

The boy didn't even bother to respond now. He just shook his head slowly.

"Do you know a boy named Emil?"

Another shake of his head.

"Where are the Underworld labs?"

Another shake.

"Tell me something," Lukas wanted to beg. "Something. Anything."

The boy's shoulders shook, and he sniffed before saying, "They'll kill you."

Lukas hesitated for a moment. "If I let you go…"

"I'll tell them," the golden-eyed boy whispered. "I'll tell them that you live, and they'll hunt you down."

"Well we can't have that happening," Mathias muttered next to Lukas. He glanced at the taller blonde, and noted his wounds.

"No," he agreed, steeling his resolve. "We can't."

He has to find Emil, and he has to escape from the grasps of the Underworld with Emil. He will do anything to find his brother.

Anything.

Even if it meant bloodying his own hands.

Lukas clenched the gun, aimed towards the boy's head.

Even if it meant becoming a murderer himself.

He pulled the trigger.

* * *

 **Please Review! It's very much appreciated.**


	10. Breathe

**IX**

Something poked his side.

Emil growled a little, but ignored it, continuing his uneasy slumber plagued with dreams of pain and torture and-

Something poked him again, this time hard enough to hurt.

Emil groaned. "Lukas, stop it…"

"Shh…" another voice that was _not_ Lukas shushed him. "Emil, wake up."

Emil cracked his eyes open, blinking, only for his eyes to adjust to the sight of Ludwig's severe expression, which softened as Emil woke. The room was completely dark save for several small lights that lined the hallway outside the bars. A green exit sign glowed on top of the door.

"What's happening?" Emil asked groggily, his words slurring together. Ludwig didn't say anything, merely gesturing at the opposite corner where the rest of the inhabitants of the Tank huddled together. "What are they doing?"

"Come," Ludwig gestured again, and Emil crawled up, wincing as he accidentally placed a little pressure on his hand. Tino had come back later to wrap it up, but it's still quite delicate.

Ludwig led Emil over, then sat down in the circle, the others shifting to make some space for him. Emil was more uncertain. It wasn't because he felt out of place, because in the end, they were all the same: they were all victims of the Underworld. It was because the others were doing… something.

Kiku knelt closest to one side of the wall, at the edge of the semi-half-circle. His lips were moving, but his words were too quiet for Emil to hear, and his hands moved with a pattern, brushing his forehead, his heart, clasping it in front of him… It was as if he was doing some elaborate praying routine. Must be an Asian thing.

Feliciano sat next to Kiku, and he was obviously praying. He was also on his knees, and his fingers were tightly clasped, pressed to the bridge of his nose, and he whispered words in Italian.

Ludwig was next, and he had placed a hand on Feliciano's shoulder. He didn't look like he was specifically doing anything, but seemed to be listening to Feliciano, muttering a small 'Amen' here and there.

Feliks and Sadik knelt side by side. Sadik moved his hands as he spoke his native tongue, and once in a while, would lower his head to touch his forehead to the cold floor. Feliks was completely still.

Arthur sat in the corner, his back against the walls. His head was lowered, but his lips didn't move. He was just silent, and he seemed to listen to the others pray.

All in all, it was quite strange.

Suddenly, Arthur looked up, his dark green eyes seeming to glow, the scars on his face and arms were a pale contrast to the darkness.

"Come, child," he raised a heavily casted arm, "Join us."

"Uh…" Emil took a step back. "I'd… rather not…"

Arthur beckoned again. "It's okay, we mean no harm."

"Could've fooled me," the younger boy muttered.

"AMEN!" The word echoed on the empty white walls, the chorus of voices fading slowly away. Feliks, Sadik, Feliciano, and Ludwig opened their eyes, relaxing, while Kiku did his little ritual one last time before following suit. Expectant expressions turned to Emil.

"Well, aren't you, like, gonna join us?" Feliks demanded a little angrily.

"What were you doing?" Emil demanded.

"Praying," Feliciano answered cheerfully. "This is very important!"

"Feliciano is right," Arthur nodded in agreement, "This is vital. Tonight, Emil, we are going to find your trigger."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Your trigger," Kiku repeated. "Everyone here has a trigger. It's the thing that causes your powers to… show up, I guess you can say."

Emil took another step back. "My powers?"

"Yes, our goal is to reveal your powers as soon as possible, before the scientists manage to trigger it, and get you a way to control it," Arthur elaborated.

"Of course, there were a few of us that didn't need triggers. Like me." Sadik pointed to himself. "The scientists injected the chemicals, which are what give us powers, and the moment I opened my eyes, my senses were enhanced. However, some people weren't as lucky." Emil noticed how everyone glanced at Feliks, then quickly turning their gazes away.

"They starved me half to death," Ludwig said gruffly.

Emil's heartbeat quickened. How were they supposed to trigger his powers? From what the others had told him about the scientists, they were cruel, sadistic people who very possibly tried to make their triggers as painful and extreme as possible. But then, Emil couldn't really think of any way to force something supernatural out other than some extreme conditions, which they currently didn't have.

"How are you going to do it?" he asked nervously.

"So far, the only person we managed to trigger before the scientists was Feli." Arthur didn't answer his question immediately. "The thing is, the scientists do this blindly. They don't bother to find the most efficient way to trigger a person. They basically just have a list of extreme situations and applies it to the person. If it doesn't work, they try another one."

"We're doing this differently, of course," Arthur continued. "With Sadik and Feliks's abilities, we can have a small idea of what is your power."

"When Feli just came in, it was obvious he was a… very cautious person," Sadik explained. "He was very timid, Feliks could sense that, and I could smell his fear and desire to disappear. So we scared him with exaggerated stories about the scientists, and then _voila!"_

It was less… scary as Emil had imagined. Cautiously, he sat down between Ludwig and Sadik, closing up the circle.

Sadik sniffed, his nose twitching. "Once again boy, you smell like smoke. I can't identify anything else."

Feliks wasn't exactly paying attention. "Oh my God, Liet, did you see that? Wasn't that like, totally awesome?"

"Who's Liet?" Emil inquired.

"His imaginary friend, probably," Arthur said. "His imaginary _best_ friend, too, as we've been reminded several times before. Anyways, I guess it's best if we ignore Feliks for now. Sadik, you said smoke?"

"That's a little difficult." Kiku frowned. "Smoke has many possibilities. Can he create smoke or control smoke? Or if you want to go a little broader, maybe illusions? Invisibility?"

The rest of the group was silent.

"Feliks?" Arthur stared expectantly at the long-haired boy, who froze in the middle of his conversation with himself.

Feliks pouted. "Wait a second, Liet." He then turned to Emil, furrowing his brows as he examined him with those half-lidded green eyes.

"Breathe," he suddenly pronounced, then returned to his former conversation.

"Wise words from a madman," Arthur muttered.

"'Word'," Ludwig corrected.

Feliciano leaned over Ludwig to pat Emil on the shoulder. "It's okay, _bambino_ , we'll figure something out." He yawned. "But is it okay if I go to sleep? I'm sleepy."

"Feli," Ludwig said sternly.

"Ve~ But I'm so tired…"

"Feli, it would be disrespectful," Kiku added, his tone slightly concerned. Feliciano pouted, but didn't say more.

"Truth to be spoken…" Emil paused when all attention (with the exception of Feliks) turned to him, "I'm plenty tired too. Is it okay if we continue tomorrow? Maybe do this before I fall asleep? Waking me up in the middle of the night wasn't very necessary, in my opinion."

"Yay!" Feliciano jumped up. "Somebody agrees with me!" He wrapped his arms around the boy, squeezing him in a tight hug.

Emil swallowed, his face burning. Feliciano was so immature! Why was he hugging him?

The hug was uncomfortably tight, and due to the height difference, Emil's front was tightly pressed against Feliciano, and he couldn't breathe. His chest was constricting; no air is entering his lungs. He needs oxygen, something, anything. He's suffocating, he couldn't breathe…

Darkness swam in his vision. This wasn't right. This wasn't possible. Why couldn't he breathe? He needs air, his lungs were aching. Oxygen. He'd give anything to have oxygen.

Where was Lukas? Lukas could help him. Lukas always knows what to do.

Emil couldn't think. He was suffocating; he might die. He needs to-

 _Breathe._

 **Please Review! They were much appreciated!**


	11. Black Nights and White Dawns

**Here's the next chapter! I know it's a little late, but then well, I don't exactly have an updating schedule, so you can't say I'm late either... Anyways, on with the chapter!**

 **Warning: very minor swearing.**

 **X**

Ludwig couldn't get Feliciano to stop crying. None of them knew what was happening.

For nearly five minutes now, the young boy had been on the ground, motionless save for some twitching of his fingers. Every now and then, a spasm will shudder through the small body, and Feliciano would only cry harder.

"All I did was hug him, Ludwig!" he wailed. "I didn't do anything else, I swear!"

Kiku had dragged himself to Emil's side, checking his pulse desperately, placing his finger beneath his nose to try to detect a hint of breath.

"He's not breathing," Kiku murmured.

"He's suffocating," Sadik called. "Somebody do the breathing thing!"

"The breathing thing?" Kiku looked bewildered.

Feliks and Arthur were the only two who didn't react. Feliks because he was still chatting with 'Liet', while Arthur just sat there, watching the others panic.

Ludwig stared at Emil's face, which was gradually growing blue. "At this rate, he's going to die."

"No, he's not," Feliks suddenly cut in sharply. "He still has plenty of time."

But despite the reassurance, Feliciano continued to sob. Feliks _harrumphed_ , and stared at the digital numbers only he could see, hovering above the boy's head, counting down the seconds. No, that boy wasn't due to die anytime soon. He was a long, long way from zero.

From Feliks's point of view, every single person had a number with hours, minutes, and seconds above their heads. He glanced at each one, despite having already calculating the date and time of everybody in the room, including the few scientists that came and gone, Tino included.

Feliks glanced at the blood red number on top of Arthur's head, then quickly looked away again. If there was one number he didn't want to see, it was his.

 **124: 42: 09** **…**

"Emil!" Kiku shook the boy's shoulders as another spasm passed through. Sadik was helping Kiku raise the boy into a sitting position, thumping his back desperately.

Then, another jerking spasm came, the strongest one yet, and as if it had shaken his lungs open, Emil took a deep, gulping breath, and slipped straight through Sadik and Kiku's hands.

It took several moments for the others to process what had happened.

The boy lay on the floor, his breathing slowly steadying, but something about him had changed. Sadik took a step back, nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Smoke," he explained. "The smell of smoke is overwhelming."

"Smoke…" Kiku repeated, reaching out cautiously at Emil, then twitching back when his fingers went through his arm. "He can't control smoke… but I think he can _make_ smoke."

"By turning himself _into_ smoke," Arthur finished.

"This is incredible," Ludwig murmured, staring at Emil, whose lines were smudged and vague. "It reminds me of Feli's powers, except even if Feli camouflages, he is still solid."

"Is-is he okay?" Feliciano whimpered, his sobs just beginning to calm.

"I think so," Kiku said. "Other than the fact that he's in… gas form."

"Sounds weird, but I'll ignore that for now," Sadik declared. "Now, the big question is… How do we wake him up? If the scientists come in to see him like this…"

"Maybe just call him?" Feliciano suggested. "Emil~?" He turned to the unconscious boy and waved a hand in front of his face, causing his figure to ripple and warp slightly. Feliciano quickly retracted his hand, looking nervous.

Suddenly, Feliks intervened. "Oh my God, why are you all like, so useless?" He stepped up bravely, plopped himself down beside Emil's head, and promptly began talking.

"Hey there, Smoky, now here's the thing: we're all like, pretty tired, so it's not fair you get all the beauty sleep, you know. But did you know that pink is like, the most fabulous color ever? There's no pink around here, and that makes the lab like, so boring." Here, Feliks rolled his eyes. "Liet doesn't agree with me, which is not cool of him, because he's like, supposed to be my best friend. That Natalia is creepy, isn't she? But Liet's like, weird, so he likes her. But I think she's scary, so I like, don't. It's very weird, you know, like scariness runs in her family, because like, Natalia's brother is very scary as well."

"I agree!" Feliciano's hand shot up in the air. He had been listening intently the whole time.

Emil stirred then, as if a word in Feliks's one-sided conversation had triggered something, and his eyes fluttered open, the violet-blue orbs dazed and unfocused. "Brother…?" he murmured.

Feliks nodded. "Yes, Natalia has a brother. It's like, shocking, isn't it? A lot of people have brothers, actually, but I don't, which is like, not awesome. Having a sibling would be fabulous."

A smile twitched on the young boy's lips.

"Ludwig has a brother," Feliciano supplied cheerfully, "but I've never met him, which is sad. Kiku has lots of brothers!"

"And a sister," the Asian reminded him.

"Oh yes, a _bella sorella_. And me too! I have…" His expression fell. "I _had_ a brother."

Emil's eyes had adjusted, and he gazed up at the ceiling, wide-eyed. "I feel like I'm floating," he whispered.

"You're made out of gas, boy," Arthur replied. Emil didn't react to the statement, merely raising his left arm and staring at the hazy outlines of his fingers. He flexed those fingers, but nothing felt out of place. He wiggled them, and the particles seem to be shaken apart for a moment - becoming near invisible before reappearing. He sat up and waved his arm, with the same effect.

The room was silent.

"What's happening?" Sadik whispered urgently, unable to see but sensing the atmosphere. "Somebody tell me what's happening!"

"Incredible…" Emil breathed. He willed his fingers to harden, and they solidified. It was a strange feeling, it was new, but it was so easy to control; it was so much easier than he thought it would be. And the best thing? He couldn't seem to feel any obvious side effects yet. "Lukas would freak if he ever sees this…"

"Who's Lukas?" Kiku inquired kindly.

"My brother," he answered, attention not leaving the scattered particles of his anatomy. They slowly began to gather and assemble into Emil's physical body.

"You can control it?" Arthur called out, his expression neutral.

"Yes," Emil whispered, still in awe. "It's so… easy."

Then Arthur smirked, and he leaned back against the wall, looking satisfied. "Perfect," he said.

The single word snared the attention of everyone in the room.

"What do you mean, Arthur?" Ludwig demanded. Even Feliks was silent, listening expectantly.

"I'm glad you are so content with your abilities, Emil," he addressed the younger boy instead. "You mentioned a brother didn't you?" Emil nodded, and the blonde man continued, "Well, if you ever want to see your brother again, I have a plan…"

* * *

The only funeral Lukas had been to was his parents', and that had passed in a haze of blank uncertainty and terror. Mathias, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind at all. He simply slowly pried the gun from Lukas's hand, and gently pushed him, urging him to start walking towards the nearest exit. They were going to leave.

Lukas was so numbed that he had listened to the taller blonde, and he walked with no thoughts in his head.

There was a small splash behind him before the formerly abandoned flashlight shone towards Lukas, and Mathias hurried to catch up. Lukas took the flashlight, which was already starting to die, and Mathias began trying to patch up his injuries a little.

"It's going to get infected if we don't get out of this shithole soon," the blonde grunted as he tore a strip of cloth from his sleeve and wrapped it tightly around the cuts, grimacing in pain. When they finally found an exit, Mathias had to scale the ladder singlehandedly, and it was up to Lukas to pry the hatch apart with the knife.

The world outside was dark: night had already fallen. It seemed like Lukas and Mathias had become nocturnal, only being allowed to move around in the shadows. They were somewhere close to the outskirts of the city: no streetlamps were lit; tiny shop lights flickered every now and then. Cars seldom passed, and when they do, they never stopped. Trees loomed ominously on every side, and the darkness pressed down on them.

Mathias panted as he struggled through the hole with Lukas's help and they finally took a deep breath of fresh air. The smell of the sewers still clung to their clothes, but the constant breeze blew it away, and Lukas felt his stomach growl.

He needed food. And water.

Mathias wasn't talking. He sat on the ground, ashen-faced, breathing heavy. Dark patches were soaking through the strips of cloth: he was losing blood, he needed a doctor.

They needed so many things they didn't have, and could hardly get. His phone was dead, his wallet was never with him in the first place, and his house keys were about as useful as the internet without any wifi.

After moments of silence, Lukas spoke, his voice flatter than ever, "Mathias, we should go check out those stores."

Mathias nodded and struggled to his feet. He swayed, but Lukas caught him in time, and the pair began limping down the street.

The first store they passed sold fruits at ridiculously high prices. The second store was a mechanic shop. The third had nothing on the shelves over than several expired bags of chips.

And even those were outrageously expensive.

None of the store owners paid them any attentions. They looked just about as miserable with their own lives as Lukas was with his, so he decided the only thing he could do was to leave them alone as well.

At some point while they were trudging down the dark path, Mathias suddenly remembered that he had some disinfectant and other medicines in his pocket, only to empty his pockets to find everything crushed and leaking.

It felt as if they had left civilization behind. There was nothing else around them except for the unending road and trees wreathed by darkness. Lukas had no idea where they were, and a small part of him was struck by the terror of his cluelessness.

Mathias lolled in Lukas's grip, weak from blood loss, becoming harder and harder to maintain upright with every step. He muttered nonsensical things under his breath, and Lukas caught words and names like _'Run´_ and _'Tino'_ and _'Stop'_. The words eventually unnerved him, and Lukas blocked the sounds out, concentrating only on putting one foot in front of the other, and continue walking… and walking… and walking…

And then he saw light. It was dark blue and red and green, but at least it was light.

As they closed the distance towards the strange looking shop, Lukas noticed someone standing in front. The person was doing something that looked suspiciously like witchcraft, what with eerie yellow lights, a huge, empty pot accompanied by the sounds of boiling water, and several random, obviously plastic skulls scattered on the ground. The person stirred the pot with one hand, an old, thick book splayed in the other, and he was muttering something under his breath, just like Mathias. It was also probably just as senseless as the mentally-weak teenager.

However, when Lukas attempted to walk past the person, the mutterings suddenly ceased, and a very normal, very young and boyish voice said, "You two smell like you've gone through the sewers. Somebody on your tail?"

Lukas stopped, and Mathias raised his head at the alien voice.

The witch/wizard/whatever-you-call-those-weirdoes – or better yet, the strange boy, snapped the book shut and stepped out from behind the pot. He groped around in the dark for a bit before switching off the boiling water sound effects and some eerie music that Lukas had not noticed was playing.

"So," the boy began, tugging his shirt and jacket to neatness and rearranging the tiny, useless hat on his head, "What are you two poor souls doing out here on this lonely autumn night?"

"It's none of your business," Lukas answered.

"Aw, don't be like that!" The person spread his arms in a welcoming gesture and took a step forward into the small range of a dim, orange lantern, revealing pale skin and chin-length brown hair, bangs swept to the left. Ribbons fluttered behind him as he tipped his decorative hat in greeting. "My name is Vladimir Popescu."

"That's very nice," Lukas said coldly, "but we have to be on our way. Please excuse us."

"You can stop right there."

Lukas stopped.

Vladimir was grinning, and Lukas was mildly surprised to see a single fang glinting in the orange light. Blood red eyes bore into Lukas's dark blue ones, and he felt a shudder run up his spine as the vampire-like boy said, "Now why would I let go of somebody who reeks so strongly of murder?"

 **Please Review! I would really appreciate it. Just wondering, but does anyone think the plot is going a bit too slowly? I feel like barely anything of significant importance happened yet, other than the initial spark, I guess...**

 **Personally, I think this chapter is very... meh... It's not what I expected it would turn out, and it kind of warped my planning. Oh well. Once again, please review!**


	12. Human Liars

**Hi. Yes, another slow chapter, but blame it on Vladimir. I rewrote this chapter three times trying to decide how he might act, how his personality might be. He just doesn't come out enough in the anime. And also, a chapter for the day America gets a new president. Hip, hip, hurray.**

 **But! Please enjoy the chapter, no matter who you supported for the elections!**

 **Chapter Eleven**

Everything was suspicious about Vladimir Popescu. He was welcoming, offering medical supplies for Mathias, but insisted on Lukas coming into the shop with him.

At first, Lukas resisted, pulling Mathias back, until Vladimir got annoyed and said, "Geez, I won't bite!"

"Would've fooled me," Lukas answered. And truly, Vladimir looked so much like a vampire with his pale skin, crimson eyes, and fang that 'not biting' sounded almost like a joke. Not like Lukas believed in petty things like vampires, of course.

The brunette rolled his eyes. "Okay, I get it. But you know the old stories about Dracula, don't you? Even if I decided to bite you, as long as I don't drain you, you'll feel perfectly fine! And also," he gestured at Mathias, "either you can drag that guy down the rest of the dozen kilometers of the road, or you can save his arm from amputation. And anyways, look outside: what do you think I am?"

Lukas backed up a few steps and read the sign on top: _Discover the future: Fortune Telling_. He paused, staring at the incredibly cheesy name. "But don't vampires have superpowers or something?"

Vladimir snorted, waving his hand dismissively. "Don't believe in the Twilight shit, little boy. Vampires don't sparkle either."

"How do you know that?" Lukas inquired.

"I'm a Dracula fan. Don't believe in anything else." Vladimir flashed him another fanged grin and a wink. "If I wanted to drink your blood, I would wait until you're asleep."

After a moment of stubborn reluctance, Lukas relented.

He dragged Mathias into the shop, trying to ignore the sleepy music and strong scent of herbs and perfume. Vladimir led them through a small door hidden in the corner, and they arrived in the back room, where piles of boxes and crates tethered dangerously on one side, and several couches and armchairs made a comfortable resting area on another.

Vladimir took Lukas's burden, placing Mathias on a couch. He peeled off the blonde's shirt, examining his wounds.

"This is worse than I expected at first," he murmured. "What happened?"

"A gang," Lukas lied smoothly, watching him carefully. "We were attacked, and barely got out alive through the sewers."

Vladimir nodded. "Not surprised. You two stink to the high heavens."

Lukas didn't bother to deny it; it's been too long since he had a bath, and trekking through the sewers didn't help at all.

The brunette had begun to tend to Mathias's wounds, disinfecting it and wrapping it up tightly with bandages. His hands were quick to work, and careful, as if he had done it many times. Every now and then, Vladimir would glance up at Lukas through the suffocating silence.

Finally, he spoke. "You're covered in blood as well. Are you hurt?"

Lukas shook his head. "None of it is mine."

Vladimir secured the bandages, and stood, brushing off his hands. Then, he slumped down in a nearby armchair, sighing. "Kids these days…" he groaned, "Always getting into trouble…"

Lukas didn't say anything.

He gestured at a nearby crate behind Lukas. "There're spare clothes in there and a bathroom up there." He pointed at a small flight of stairs in the corner. "You should go get cleaned up. Both of you should, except this one," he pointed at Mathias, "is basically unconscious."

"We don't need your help," said Lukas, coolly. "We'll continue on our way when he wakes up."

"Who is he?"

"Him." Lukas pointed at Mathias. "He's called Mathias."

"And you?"

"Lukas."

Vladimir sighed again, exasperated. "Kids these days… no manners at _all_ …" He shook his head and told Lukas, "Well, if you're waiting for him to wake up, you'll probably have to wait for several hours. He's pretty delirious right now. And if you're staying for that long, you're stinking up my living room. So either you go get something from that box and go shower, or _I'm_ going to grab the most ridiculous costume I have, and _make_ you shower, understand?"

"You have no right-"

"I have _every_ right," he corrected. "You're in my house."

A small scowl twisted Lukas's features, but he turned to the box, throwing open the lid and digging through the folded, dusty clothes. He spent some time trying to decide whether or not he should wear the red shirt with a mutated clown on it or the black one with the gigantic buck-teethed beaver – both of which were much better than the neon green sweatshirt with diamond studs – before noticing a clean white shirt stuffed at the bottom. When he unfolded it, there was a dopey smiley face on it. Reluctantly, he took the shirt, as it was the most normal looking one, and grabbed a simple pair of sweatpants. Other than the weird, sparkling pair of jeans, Vladimir's extra stock of pants weren't too bad.

Lukas climbed up the stairs and through the trapdoor above, glancing back once at Mathias before allowing the trapdoor to swing shut. The bathroom was located at the end of the hallway, tiny but clean, and as he felt the hot water gushing down his back in a waterfall of steam and splatters, Lukas felt, despite the suspicions and doubts, so very thankful for Vladimir Popescu.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Lukas finally stepped out of the shower, sighing comfortably. Now all he needed was some food and coffee, and he'll be completely renewed. The sweatpants fit fine, but the T-shirt was too big for him, hanging below his hips. He ran a comb through his damp blonde hair, pulling it through the knots, when he noticed a certain bright yellow bottle on the shelf.

Curious, he picked it up, but the words on the labels had faded beyond recognition. He pried it open carefully, only to find it filled with some kind of scentless white powder. Lukas shrugged and replaced it on the shelf, picking up the tall blue bottle behind it. Its contents were a light, silvery liquid that stank worse than the sewers. He quickly set it down, grimacing, and resumed his previous activity.

When Lukas made his way down the steep staircase, the first thing he noticed as that Vladimir was gone, leaving Mathias alone resting on the couch. The second was that Mathias was wearing the shirt with the beaver on it, and that he looked ridiculous. The door on the other side of the room swung open with a long creak, revealing Vladimir with a tray of food and drinks. There were simple sandwiches, and several stale cookies, along with two glasses of cold water, but Lukas was hungry enough to not be picky.

The brown-haired man nodded at Mathias and said, "If you can wake him up, that'd be best."

So Lukas flicked Mathias's forehead with as much force as he could muster, leaving behind a pink mark that he didn't feel particularly guilty about. When that didn't work, he pinched him on the leg, jerking Mathias awake with a yelp.

"Food," was all Lukas needed to say to get Mathias fully awake. Vladimir placed the tray on the seat of an armchair situated close to Mathias so that he could get the food without straining his injuries. "Though I had put some of my _special_ medicines on that wound, so it should heal extra fast," he had added cheerfully.

Vladimir watched the two boys eat for a few moments, before saying, "So… a gang?"

Lukas nodded, his mouth filled with cookies.

"A gang?" Mathias was confused, shooting an uncertain glance at Lukas.

Vladimir raised an eyebrow. "This one doesn't look very certain about that."

Lukas quickly swallowed his bite. "He hit his head when he was young. There is no need to listen to him."

"Hey!" Mathias shouted, indignant. "I did _not_ hit my head when I was young. I… uh… something happened!"

"Obviously," Lukas answered drily.

Vladimir watched all this with slight amusement. "So…" he interrupted gently, "what are you two planning to do now? You're not exactly near home, now are you?"

"Doubtful," Lukas muttered, a small flicker of concern flitting over his otherwise impassive expression.

Mathias looked thoughtful for a moment. "But I remember…" his face scrunched up as he struggled with his own mind, trying to revive a memory, any memory. There was a moment of silence as both Vladimir and Lukas stared at him, before his expression opened wide, a grin spreading on his face, and he exclaimed, "B. Oxenstierna, 42 Wallaby Street, Sydney!"

There was a sharp inhale of breath, and Vladimir forced out, "Did you just say… Oxenstierna? Sydney?"

"B. Oxenstierna, 42 Wallaby Street, Sydney!" Mathias repeated as a confirmation. Then, he said to Lukas, even though the shorter blonde's attention wasn't on him, "Look, Lukas, I remember something!"

Vladimir was scrutinizing them carefully, biting his lip. "Oxenstierna… I know that name. Do you two know what that address is?"

Lukas shook his head.

"It's a dentist's place in Australia. But that's not quite it…" he trailed off, then shook his head and fixed Lukas with piercing, blood red eyes. "You were lying," he stated, "can't believe I almost fell for it. So enlighten me please," the brunette leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and balancing his head atop his hands, "what is your relationship with the Underworld?"

* * *

"You met Antonio." That was the first thing Vladimir said after Lukas finished summarizing their little adventure.

"Who's Antonio?" Mathias asked, furrowing his brows in confusion while Lukas nodded in confirmation. "And Francis and Gilbert," he added, but Vladimir waved it away.

"Never really worked with those two, so I don't really care. But you know what Antonio does, right?"

Lukas nodded again, a bad feeling beginning to spread in his stomach.

"I do the same job as him," Vladimir said softly, a faraway look on his face while a hint of regret sparked in his eyes. "I don't really support the Underworld either, and I'm kind of… the person who gives information to the spy, which happens to be Antonio. So I work with Francis and Gilbert, you could say, but not directly."

"You're a trader." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, I am. I specialize in drugs and poisons, while Antonio is mostly weapons."

So that's what the bottles in the bathroom were: stimulates and toxins.

Lukas took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. Why was it that they manage to meet people from the Underworld wherever they go? It was as if the organization was determined to spread its fingers through the cracks to reach everywhere in the world. Perhaps they do have people everywhere, always watching, always informed.

But Vladimir was different… was he? He worked with Antonio after all. After a moment, Lukas realized that the trader had continued to speak.

"I knew Oxenstierna," Vladimir was saying, "but that was a few years back. He was a scientist; I have no idea where he is now. Or well, I _had_ no idea, because if what you said," he gestured at Mathias, "is true, then he's probably in Australia right now."

"B. Oxenstierna, 42 Wallaby Street, Sydney!" Mathias answered enthusiastically.

"You say you're brother has been kidnapped, and this address is your only clue," Vladimir now addressed Lukas, who nodded in confirmation, "I can get you there."

Lukas blinked, all words escaping his throat in a sudden, shocked release of air. "Pardon… me?" he finally managed to choke out.

"I don't know why you look so shocked." Vladimir leaned back on his couch, seeming unimpressed. "I'm a trader in the Black Market: of course I have ways to get to different parts of the world. I might not know where all the labs are located, but I'm stuck deep enough in this mess to know some important stuff."

One word jerked Lukas out of his daze. " _Labs_?" he demanded.

"Yes, _labs_." Vladimir grinned, exposing his single fang. "You can't expect the Underworld to be so unprepared that they would only set up _one_ lab in the entire world? No, I know at least five locations where labs can be situated."

"My brother…"

"Is probably in Sydney, don't worry. I know for a fact that there's a lab situated somewhere in Australia: they've been ordering chemicals and drugs from me in suspiciously large amounts. Also, if the Australian one doesn't work, you can always track down the one in New Zealand; if you survive, that is."

"You can get us to the address," Lukas said, ignoring the last comment. "How?"

"I have about a dozen ways to get you into Sydney. The specifics are only for me."

"I want the fastest way."

Vladimir rolled his eyes. "Of course you do. No one wants anything but the best. And sure, why not? I don't mind." Then, he fixed Lukas with a freezing look. "But what will you give me in return?"

Lukas paused.

"I _am_ a trader. You can't expect me to just pass out free service when it's risky for me. I work for the Underworld, I know how they treat traitors. You're not getting anything with nothing coming out for me."

"What do you want, then?" Lukas asked softly. "As long as I can get my brother back, I'll do whatever it requires to pay for this trip."

Vladimir had a thoughtful look on his pale, narrow face. "Tell you what: if you go to the lab, face whatever security they put up with, and come out of all that alive, you'll become a public enemy of the Underworld: just like Gilbert and Francis."

They were on dangerous territory. "So what?" Lukas asked carefully.

"I don't want much," Vladimir said, not exactly answering his question. "I don't _have_ much, so this is all I want you to do: if you ever find a woman the Underworld named 'Magyar', call her a bitch for me, and tell her that it doesn't matter what she does, I won't forgive her so easily. She'll understand."

"What if we don't find her?"

Vladimir shrugged, then stood up, casually pulling out his phone from his coat pocket and scrolling and typing through it. "Then don't say anything. You'll know when you find her, and just tell her that."

"B. Oxenstierna, 42 Wallaby Street, Sydney," Mathias said, as if to remind Vladimir.

"I know, I know," the trader grumbled, and then in one crisp movement, replaced his phone in his pockets and turned to the two blondes, clapping his hands together. "You're going to be in for a long trip. Fill yourselves up, drink some water; get ready."

Lukas and Mathias complied, stuffing a large bite of sandwich before picking up the formerly untouched glasses of water, and washing the bread down with a big gulp. Mathias did the same, draining the entire glass.

The first thing Lukas noticed was that the water was too sweet to be natural.

Then he realized that there was something in it.

Vladimir Popescu was a specialist in drugs and poisons.

Through his rapidly fading vision, Lukas saw Mathias slump down against the couch, unconscious.

The last thing he saw was a fanged grin, and he felt an uncontrollable surge of anger.

 _'If I wanted to drink your blood, I would wait until you're asleep.'_

The world went black.

* * *

 **Please Review! They are much appreciated!**


	13. Listen to the First Steps

**Hi!**

 **Chapter Twelve**

"Tino, come here for a mom'nt."

Tino jumped slightly and turned his attention to Berwald, who was staring intently at his computer screen.

"W-What is it, sir?"

"Berwald."

"Berwald? Oh, um, I mean, what is it, Berwald?"

The scientist nodded, gesturing at Tino to come over.

"Th' Boston headquart'rs were attacked," he explained.

The smaller blonde tilted his head in confusion. Boston was a long way from here. "So?"

"They got th's on cam'ra." Berwald had a short video clip open and he played it as Tino peeked over his broad shoulder to watch. It showed two people running down the main hall of the UDW building, both of them blonde, one slightly taller than another. Then, the point of view switched to a different camera directly in front of the two people, and Tino watched as the taller blonde raised a gun and shot down the front door, staggering and stumbling through the gas while doing so.

Berwald paused the video and zoomed in on the invaders' faces.

"Doesn't th's look famili'r?"

Tino gasped, because despite the haze and struggle, the picture blurred from the movement, he recognized him.

"That's Mathias," he gasped.

And he could barely believe it, because it truly was him. Tino recognized the bright blue eyes, intense, determined, and the strong build, and the spiked, sweeping hairstyle.

"He didn't change," Berwald commented quietly in his heavily accented voice.

Tino had to agree. Two years in an Underworld prison didn't seem to have affected him at all. But then, he paused.

"Who's that?" Tino asked, pointing to the unfamiliar face behind Mathias's.

Berwald shrugged. "Not sure. Th' organization's still doing s'rches."

"I see."

And then the short conversation was cut off by abrupt ringing from the telephone on Tino's desk. He hurried over, picking it up and pressing it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hello! Thank you for using our services!" a familiar voice chirped. It had been a long time since he had met Vladimir face to face – three years, to be exact, but he could still imagine the brunette's grinning face on the other side of the line, his single fang glinting. "Your package shall arrive in approximately twelve to fourteen hours-"

"Wait, what?" Tino was confused. "I'm sorry, I don't recall-"

"It's okay! When the package arrives, you can just check the receipt. No worries!"

"That's not-"

"Once again, thank you for ordering from us. Price includes shipping money, but since it has already been paid, you can just wait at home: the package will be sent directly there! Or well, basically directly." And then Vladimir's voice turned mischievous. "Enjoy your last hours of peace."

"Eh? What? Wait-" But the line was already cut.

"What is it, Tino?"

Tino slammed the phone down. "Oh no, nothing of importance, sir- I mean, Berwald."

Berwald grunted, then stood, closing his laptop and heading towards a door at the back of the room marked 'Staff Only'. Tino watched his tall figure disappear behind the door, and then into the darkness, heading to the cold, white, metal world below.

Only after his footsteps faded did Tino relax, and he sighed deeply, mind spinning.

A package…?

 _Enjoy your last hours of peace._

Tino had a very, very bad feeling.

* * *

"You're mad."

"I most certainly am not."

"Admit it, Arthur: you've gone totally bonkers."

"Feliks, I'd rather not be called that by somebody who's obviously the crazy one here."

"But Arthur," Kiku spoke quietly, "you can't possibly just let him charge in and all that when he's still so inexperienced!"

"Well then what do you want him to be experienced in?" the blonde snapped, irritated. "Torture? Pain? That's all there is to the lab if we don't at least try to escape! Do you want to rot in this hellhole for the rest of your life?"

"It's not about that!" Ludwig shot back. "It's about Emil's safety. He discovered his abilities _an hour ago_. You can't just throw him out onto the battlefield before he's ready!"

"Nobody escapes the Underworld alive," Sadik said. "Even if we escape from the lab, the Underworld is vast enough to swallow us right back again."

"Battlefield?" Arthur scoffed. "This is certainly not-"

"It's dangerous!" Feliciano cried, his arms waving dramatically as he protested. "We can help Emil know how to control his powers better…"

"We don't have the time! According to Tino, Peter is coming in less than _four days_ , possibly _three_. We don't have time to train him. The faster we get out of here, the faster Emil can be saved, the faster _we_ can be saved. This isn't just about escaping, it's about _saving the boy's life_!"

The 'fish tank' was silent after that, until a small voice said, "I actually don't mind."

"Emil!" Feliciano cried, distressed.

"Feli," Emil replied, "I have a brother outside of this world. You understand, don't you? You had a brother as well; won't you give anything just to be with him again?"

"Kiku, Ludwig," he turned to the others, "you have siblings too; you were also torn from them. I want to find Lukas again, I _need_ to find him. So what if I was caught? They'd just stuff me back here. But if Peter comes, and what you guys told me are true, then it'll be the end. I can't die, I won't die, I _don't want_ to die. I don't care about the dangers. Please, just let me go. I can do it."

The others hesitated.

Then Kiku spoke, his eyes reluctantly gazing far, far away: seeing, but not seeing at the same time. "Cameras are in every corner, and one right outside our door. Rooms 3, 9, 25, 14, 15, 20, 37 are occupied, so you should avoid that, just in case. The objects you are searching for are in Room 10, an office."

Emil nodded, the information reviewing itself in his head. "Anything else?"

Now, the Asian raised his eyes towards the ceiling, seeing something not quite in his reach. "They are awake, and they are ready, but not yet," he murmured. "Return before they arrive."

Once again, Emil nodded, his breathing quickening slightly from nervousness. The plan was simple enough: get out, get the keys that will unlock Arthur and Ludwig's restraints, come back, and everyone can get the hell out of this place. It was easy: it'll be quick. Emil steeled his resolve.

All it took was a single deep breath. He could feel the air he breathed in travelling to the tips of his fingers, trails of a strange, pleasant tingling spreading along his body- And then he was as light as air, lighter than air, and every particle in his body was relaxed and free. With a small smile to the others, Emil took a step forward, towards the thick bars that trapped them.

His form wavered, the lines blurring for a moment. When he stopped, they returned to their original position. Taking another deep breath- one that rushed through him as if he didn't exist- Emil broke out running.

He disappeared. All the others could see was an indistinct movement, and the gentlest of breezes whispered past them…

And then he was out. There were no bars, no walls, no boundaries. Emil felt like he could fly, maybe he really could, and he _could_ , because there are gases lighter than air, and that is what he felt like he was.

But no; he had a mission. There was something to do.

Without hesitation, Emil jogged towards the nearest door, making sure to keep moving so that he does not become visible. _Room 3._

Inside, he could hear people talking, but decided not to linger. After a twist in the long metal hallway, he found himself in front of Room 2, and slightly annoyed, he quickly backed up and went on the other direction.

It never occurred to him how maze-like the lab was. For some reason, he had always imagined it simply as one long hall, but no, there were twists and turns in the most random places, and hallways branching off towards a different direction. He tried to keep on the main hallway, but at this rate, he was going to get lost.

Most of the rooms he passed by were empty, but he noticed one familiar room. Room 6, currently unoccupied, was the room he had woken up in the first time. The blinding lights were all turned off save for one, which illuminated the lonely, narrow bed in the center of the room. He turned away, and continued moving.

Even though he stayed on the main path, the next room he saw read 'Room 29', so he backpedaled again, into a small hallway on the right. The first door down the path was Room 7, so he's probably on the right track and he continued down towards Room 8. However, for some reasons, he felt annoyed; why didn't Kiku give him specific directions?

* * *

"Where is he?" Sadik demanded. "Is he lost? Has he gotten the keys yet?"

"Why didn't you give him specific directions?" asked Ludwig.

"Is he okay?" Feliciano piped up nervously.

"Insane," Feliks muttered under his breath. "See, Liet. These people are completely insane."

"Uh-Um…" Kiku stammered. His eyes were darting back and forth, towards Emil, and then back to the room they were in. It was difficult to track the boy down, since he was near invisible, but there were moments when Kiku had caught a flicker that indicated Emil's location. So far, he didn't seem to be on the wrong track, but nearly ten minutes had already passed, and everyone was getting antsy.

When Kiku didn't answer right away, Feliciano jumped to the worst possible conclusion. "Oh, they've got him," he sobbed. "He's dead. He can't do this. We have to call him back…"

"This is bad," Ludwig agreed. "I have a really bad feeling about this."

But Arthur said, "He can do this."

Feliks turned to the scarred man, flipping back his hair and squinting at him. "How are you so sure?"

"I just am." Arthur's piercing green eyes were fixed on Kiku. "He will succeed; he _has to_ succeed."

Kiku didn't say anything, only letting his weak lungs pull in a deep gulp of air, and he rubbed a bony hand over his face, closing his eyes to let them rest for a moment. Then, he looked, and watched, and the room was completely silent.

But Emil had already disappeared from the hallways.

And Berwald Oxenstierna was heading towards his office in Room 10.

* * *

There was only one person in Room 9 – the blonde woman who shared an office with Tino, Natalia. So this was probably Tino's office as well.

Emil peeked in, and Natalia blinked, her eyes shooting to the door, but when she saw nothing, she returned her attention to her computer.

Room 10 was much smaller than 9, but more comfortably furnished. It was another office, filled with folders and other study results. Emil passed through the walls easily enough, but when he entered, he was completely at loss. Where were the keys? Emil began to panic slightly. He was stupid to think that they would just leave it out on the desk or something, so where-?

Emil gasped. Something was wrong. Something had gone severely wrong. He couldn't feel his hands anymore, or his feet. It was getting harder to breathe, harder to move. In his shock and confusion, Emil's particles began to cluster together again, and his outline grew visible. But when he looked down, he could not see his feet or hands, and when he tried to walk again, he couldn't feel his legs moving and he stumbled, nearly falling.

This was bad; this was really bad. It seems like he couldn't stay in gas form for too long, or else he'd disappear, he'd actually _disappear_ , and the mere thought scared him.

"Come on…" he urged himself, trying to rub his vanishing hands together. It was only after a long time did he finally begin to see a faint outline, and the relief nearly killed him. His feet were appearing again as well, the particles gathering, and against his own will, they solidified. The feeling of being solid, touchable and heavy and _real_ was soothing, anchoring, safe, and when he realized that he'd have to turn back into gas form to return to the others, he felt sick.

Maybe he should just leave. Run away from all this – he was out from behind the bars, after all, and he could just leave. One more change, and he could drift into the world outside, and find Lukas again. Forget about the Underworld; forget about Arthur and his plans and the others. He could just- No, no he couldn't do that. It was selfish, and cruel, and Emil was sure he'd feel guilty for the rest of his life.

So he took a deep breath, and cautiously moved towards the desk, hands gingerly lifting up papers and folders to see if there were any keys. He found none, but just when he was about to open the first drawer to search inside, footsteps echoed outside. Heavy, steady footsteps of a tall, large man. And they were coming right towards the room.

Emil was frozen in his spot. He couldn't move. The footsteps neared, stopping in front of the door.

They were going to catch him, and he was going to die, he was so dead, he needed to get out, get out, and he needed to-

The office door swung open.

 _Breathe._

* * *

"Arthur!" Kiku cried in distress, "You have to do something!"

"What do you want me to do?" Arthur shot back.

"Use your powers!" Feliciano begged. "Please!"

"My powers?" the blonde man scoffed, then raised his heavily locked hands, the thick layer of iron dragging him down. "Iron repels magic! I can't do anything without my hands!"

"This was _your_ idea!" Sadik roared. "Do something about it!"

"The only reason why I'm even asking the boy to do this is because _I can't do anything!_ "

"Oh my god," Feliks groaned, raising his half-lidded gaze to the ceiling. "This is like, totally not cool. Time's up." Then, he frowned to himself. "What's up?" A roll of vivid green eyes. "Time's up, darling, _time_ is up."

Arthur did not show it, but he was just as desperate as the others. He blocked out the others' voices, searching deep, deep inside, where the weakest, tiniest flame still flickered.

Then, he said, "Kiku, look, and search. Be my eyes, and guide me."

And as Kiku obliged, reaching out with his vision, Arthur let his mind wander, far, far out of the tank and into the hallways, and when it touched against the mind of a young boy, he spoke.

"I won't guide you, Arthur," Kiku answered softly, "but I will guide _him_."

* * *

In the eyes of Berwald Oxenstierna, the office was empty. But there was a flicker of movement that he didn't notice, and if he hadn't been so distracted, he would've felt the gentle breeze that rustled past him, and then Emil was running down the hallways, his feet slapping against the ground but making no sound. His breathing came in short, desperate gasps, his pounding heart sending shudders through his body and scattering his particles even more.

He didn't know where he was going, he was lost, and the numbers on the doors didn't register in his terrified mind.

But then, a familiar voice echoed in his transparent mind.

 _"Left."_

Emil skidded to a halt when he almost missed it, but he quickly corrected himself, and was soon running in that direction.

 _"Right."_

He complied.

 _"Left, and follow the-"_

And then the voice disappeared, retreating from his mind, but he was there, he recognized the wide halls, and one of the rooms that flashed by was Room 6, and he followed the main hall. And then there was that camera situated in the middle of the hall, and the locked door across from it, and Emil flung himself through the wall, through the bars, and then he stumbled and fell, and by the time his tiny body connected with the tiled floors, he was solid, and safe. Safe in a way he had never felt before – thrilled and frightened and sickened, all at the same time.

"Emil, are you okay?" It was Feliciano, worried and gentle. Kiku was next to him as well, skeleton hands rubbing his shoulder. Arthur sat in one corner, breathing heavily, face flushed. It was then did it dawn to Emil that the voice he had heard while he was running was Arthur's voice.

"Emil," Feliciano urged, "what happened? Are you okay?"

Emil opened his mouth to say something, to answer, to apologize, to thank Arthur for helping him, but all that came out was a small sob, and soon after that, another, and then his entire body was racked with tiny hiccups, tears leaking from his eyes, his good hand clenching into a fist, while his right arm attempted, but only managed to curl into a weak claw. He couldn't control himself, and he hated the fact that he was crying like the child he really was. But while Feliciano's gentle arms around him felt nice, it was foreign, and strange, because Feliciano was not Lukas, and Lukas was somewhere far, far away, and if this was all Emil could do, three days would soon pass, and he'd be dead, and he would never see Lukas again.

There was a void inside of him, and it was only afterwards did Emil realize that before, the void had been filled with hope, and there was no such thing like that inside of him now. So he mourned, sobbing uncontrollably.

He couldn't stop crying.

* * *

 **So obviously, I kind of failed with Berwald's accent. Sorry about that. We're basically halfway through the story, so please Review! They are much appreciated!**


	14. Calm Before the Storm

**Hi! Much apologies for a late update. The next few chapters are a little boring though, so I might be kind of slow in general, not like I'm not already. Wish you enjoy the chapter, and please review!**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Lukas stirred to the sound of screaming. Except this time, it sounded more like… whooping. And singing. Someone was singing. Very loudly. And quite horribly as well.

He groaned against the rising throb in his head as he tried to block out the obnoxious voice. "Shut up…"

 _"'Cause baby, you're a fiiiirework! Come on show 'em whaaaat your worth!"_

"Oh my God…" Lukas cracked open an eye. The world around him was dim, but it took him a long time to orient and realize that he was lying on a row of several airplane seats, and there were tiny windows around him with their screens drawn down to block out most of the sunlight.

 _"Make 'em go, 'Oh, oh, oh', as you shoot across the sky-y-y!"_

Lukas pried open one of the screens, squinting wearily, and he realized that outside, all he could see was blue. Blue speckled with white.

He was on a plane, surrounded by nothing but the ocean and the sky.

 _"Baby, you're a fiiiirework! Come on let your coooolors burst!"_

With a very noisy person inside.

The plane was gliding relatively steadily despite the pain gathering at his temples. There was a loud snore next to him, and he turned to find Mathias lying in the row behind him, still knocked out. He didn't seem at all disturbed by the singing and music blaring from the speakers.

 _"Make them go, 'Oh, oh, oh', you're gonna leave them aaallll in aawwee!"_

The source of the obnoxious, off-key voice came from the cockpit of the plane, and that's where Lukas headed, stumbling a little as the plane gave a tiny jerk, the music continuing.

Inside the cockpit, the music was impossibly loud. With the addition of the shouting voice, Lukas felt like he was going to go deaf.

The singer was a young man driving the plane, both of his hands planted on the controls. He had ruffled blonde hair, with a single strand sticking rebelliously up, and a pair of sunglasses blocked the sun from his blue eyes. He swayed softly with the music, causing the plane to jerk every now and then.

"Hello?" Lukas called. The man didn't react, so he gathered more volume and shouted, "Hello?" The man continued to ignore him.

Frowning, Lukas stared at the controls, where he spotted a phone plugged to the plane's speakers. Not attempting to call again, he merely reached forward, and unplugged it.

Immediately, the plane was silenced save for the pilot's obnoxious singing, and he only continued for a few more words before stopping, a little confused.

"Excuse me."

His head snapped around, and stared at Lukas for a long time. Then, his face split into a huge grin. "Well, hello there!"

Lukas's eyes narrowed coldly. "Who are you?"

The pilot gave a quick bark of booming laughter before he flipped a switch on the control board, then turned back with a hand outstretched. "The name's Alfred, and that's my buddy Matt!"

 _Who?_

Lukas glanced towards the other seat, but it was empty.

"That's… nice," he forced out.

"Yes, Mattie is very nice. You are Lukas, am I right?"

Lukas was unsure whether or not it'd be safe to reply to this man, who was obviously wrong in the head if he thought there was someone next to him, but then he remembered who he was travelling with, and who he had already met, and Lukas sighed in resignation. "Yes, that'd be me." He shook the hand weakly, pulling away quickly.

Alfred laughed again, a sound that made Lukas's ears throb in protest. "That potion Vlad slipped into your drinks must've been so strong! We're almost there and the other guy still hasn't woken up yet!"

"Almost where?" Lukas frowned.

Alfred blinked owlishly through his sunglasses. "You don't know? Weren't you the one who requested it? You wanted to get to Sydney?"

And then everything clicked.

"That… he…" Lukas stammered, mind reeling for a moment. _Vladimir Popescu-?!_

But then, there was a loud groan that interrupted the confused silence of the plane.

Mathias emerged from his place on the plane, blinking wearily. "Lukas?" he called. "Where are we?"

"Plane," Lukas answered, a little relieved Mathias hadn't forgotten him yet. It'd be quite problematic if he did. "To… Sydney." It was still a strange thought.

At the word _'Sydney'_ , Mathias brightened. "B. Oxenstierna, 42 Wallaby Street, Sydney!" He pushed himself to his feet, his hair stuck up in a hundred different angles, but a grin on his face as he stumbled towards the cockpit.

"Hey," he greeted Alfred.

"Hey," Alfred replied as he fiddled with the chord connected to his phone. He glanced up and gave Mathias a wide grin. "Nice shirt, dude."

Mathias was still wearing the shirt with the bucktoothed beaver on it, and did not look one bit ashamed of it. "Thanks, man!"

Then Alfred plugged the chord in again, and music blasted out over the speakers, Katy Perry's voice amplified to the maximum.

 _"…hear me ROAR…!"_

Mathias's face lit up even brighter, something Lukas did not expect to be possible. "Hey, I know that song!" Another impossibility.

Alfred looked absolutely delighted. "Isn't she the best?"

Mathias didn't give a direct answer; he simply began to sing a long, raising his voice to the loudest. After a moment, Alfred joined in, creating the world's loudest, most off-key duet.

Lukas felt his headache explode, momentarily smearing his vision with black.

And then he heard it.

It was barely a whisper against Alfred and Mathias's singing, but it was there.

 _"Alfred…"_

Lukas's eyes widened, and he glanced around the room, but finding no one else.

 _"Alfred, please…"_ the tiny voice repeated, _"Please be quiet…"_

 _"Alfred!"_ The voice increased in volume, but only one notch, not nearly enough to be easily heard over the music. But Alfred's singing came to an abrupt halt, and a serious expression fell upon his face.

"Yes, Mattie?"

Lukas stared good and long this time, because – how can he not? The pilot was obviously mentally crippled now, and Lukas did not know how he could handle life being with two madmen in such a confined space.

 _"Alfred, be quiet."_

But the voice really was there. Lukas could hear it much more clearly now, even though it was still a whisper. He wasn't imagining it, and even Mathias paused his singing, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Hey, I just heard a voice…" the blonde teenager visually searched the area. "But there's no one…"

"But Mattie," Alfred was whining to the invisible person, "Don't you think her songs are nice?"

 _"Maybe."_ And now the voice was truly audible, a quiet but bold voice. _"But that's no reason to disturb our guests."_ And then some unseen force reached out, and _unplugged Alfred's phone._

Mathias shrieked in fright beside Lukas, a sharp, high noise that pierced through his eardrums and left residual ringing.

And Lukas would've screamed too, if his voice hadn't got caught in his throat as he realized for the first time that the copilot seat was actually occupied. There was a man sitting there, hugging a stuffed polar bear to his chest. He looked similar to Alfred, but with longer, curlier blonde hair, round glasses, and paler eyes. When he noticed both Lukas and Mathias staring, he turned slightly pink, and squeezed the polar bear even tighter.

Right on cue, a recorded voice asked from inside the toy, "Who are you?"

The man sighed quietly. "I'm Matthew. Have you already forgotten, Kumagoro?"

Alfred frowned. "I thought his name was Kumajiro?"

Matthew blinked, then shrugged. "Eh, about the same."

"You're… Matthew," Lukas choked out.

And then suddenly Alfred's lookalike shied, bowing his head and offering Lukas and Mathias a timid but welcoming smile. "Yes. Nice to meet you."

"Did you just… appear out of thin air?" Of course that was what Mathias was curious about.

"No, I was here the entire time." Now _that_ was creepy. How did none of them notice…? "But eh, no worries, it happens a lot."

"Sorry," Lukas apologized quietly, mind still reeling slightly. Matthew waved it away with a small, quiet laugh, soothing compared to Alfred's boom.

"So… what are your businesses in Sydney?" Matthew attempted to begin a conversation. "Vlad didn't tell us."

For a second, Lukas contemplated lying, but then decided against it. He had tried with Vladimir, and look where it got him?

"It's the lab," Lukas admitted. "I think my brother is in the Australian lab."

There was a moment of silence.

"That… makes sense," Matthew spoke slowly. "Oxenstierna is the name of a scientist working for the Underworld."

"And do you?" Lukas wasn't able to stop himself from asking, his tone emotionless but somehow accusing.

"Of course we do," Alfred answered breezily, as if working for a terrorist organization was completely normal. "We pilot around, send the stuff the traders tell us to send, etc. We mainly work for Vlad and Antonio though, so no need to worry too much." The pilot winked, lips tilted into a mischievous smile.

It was becoming evident that the Underworld was not exactly popular amongst its workers, something Lukas was immensely grateful for.

Alfred was checking the coordinators on the plane, and peeking out the window. A delighted expression passed over his face as he let out a booming laugh. "Hey look! We're here!"

Tentatively, Lukas looked past the buttons and controls to see a large stretch of land, surrounded by an even larger stretch of ocean.

Australia.

"B. Oxenstierna, 42 Wallaby Street, Sydney!" Mathias chanted excitedly.

"Well, dudes!" Alfred announced, "I'm giving your five seconds to sit down and buckle up! We're going down!"

The two passengers scrambled back, falling into the seats and fumbling with the belts.

"Ready…"

And then Lukas noticed that Mathias had no idea what to do with the clasp he held in his hands. But just when he reached out to help his mentally impaired companion, Alfred shouted, "Let's go!"

And then the plane slowed, froze… Mathias's mouth opened wide, a scream beginning to build up in his throat… and then the head of the plane dipped…

And they plummeted towards the sparkling blue waters below.

* * *

Tino had decided to spend most of his day upstairs, acting as the assistant of a 'dentist'. The lab was hidden behind a door behind the reception's desk, and that's where he dawdled, not doing anything except sit there, stare at the document filled to the brim with words in front of him, and being bored out of his mind.

But then suddenly, the telephone on the desk rang, and Tino jumped at the sudden sound in the quiet, nearly-empty dental clinic.

"Hello," Tino called breathlessly, "This is the UDW Dental-"

"Tino!" a familiar, booming shout greeted him, and Tino flinched back, his ear throbbing.

Gingerly replacing the telephone to his other ear, he replied with an awkward laugh, "Hello, Alfred."

The American sounded excited beyond belief. "Hey, Tino, Mattie and I were fishing!"

Tino smiled exasperatedly. "That's nice." There was no need to call him for-

"And you know what we caught?"

"What?" With a resigned sigh, he decided to play along.

There was a long pause. When Alfred spoke again, he didn't sound as giddy. "Um… you guys have a baby clownfish in the fish Tank, don't you?"

"Huh?"

"Well, yeah!" Alfred's voice once more rose to a shout. "We've got Daddy clownfish! Sending him over right now!"

 _What?_

"Ha ha ha! Wish you like our present! Vlad sends his best regards!"

And then Alfred hung up.

Tino's mind was reeling. One because, where do you need to go for fishing to catch a _clownfish_? And two because-

 _'You guys have a baby clownfish in the fish Tank, don't you? …We've got Daddy clownfish!'_

 _'Your package shall arrive in approximately twelve to fourteen hours…'_

 _'Who's Lukas?' '…My brother.'_

 _'Sending him over right now!'_

 ** _'Enjoy your last hours of peace.'_**

Tino leapt up from his seat, heart pounding, brain fried. He spun around, ripping open the door marked 'Staff Only' and hurried into the darkness. He had never been so desperate to get down to the Underworld.

 _Emil…!_

* * *

 **Please Review! Tell me what you think! Thanks for reading!**


	15. Burning Revelation

**Chapter Fourteen**

Before, Emil had always thought crazy people were scary; he had seen movies about asylums, and those were downright terrifying.

So at first, he had been plenty wary of Feliks, because the blonde boy was obviously barking mad.

But that was before.

"Hey, little buddy."

Emil raised his head from where it had been resting on his knees, half-hidden by his arms that folded around his legs and drawing himself up into a tiny ball in the corner. "Hi, Feliks."

The blonde slumped down against the wall next to Emil, sighing softly. His eyes were half-closed as usual, staring dreamily into the distance; but for once, he wasn't acting insane.

"Hello, little guy, you like, look pretty bummed out."

Emil let his head fall back into his good arm, taking care to keep pressing off of his crippled one. "I'm not a little guy, and I'm not bummed out."

"Then stop looking like you are."

"I don't look like I am either."

"Not true."

"Very true."

"Not-" And then the blonde cut himself off abruptly, and taking another deep sigh, running his pale, thin fingers through his locks of long, golden hair. His eyes slid shut for a moment, his face was drawn and tired, and he suddenly looked so much older, even though he was really only a little bit older than Lukas.

It was a strange thought.

But what was stranger was how normal Feliks was acting. He still had that distinct whine in his voice, but there were no more of that randomness and conversations with himself.

"It takes practice, you know."

Emil blinked. "What takes practice?"

" _It_ does." There was a long, drawn pause before Feliks continued, "When I first woke up with the chemicals coursing through my veins, I saw things. Numbers everywhere, all of them clocks, counting down second by second. You still have time."

Now the last sentence was random, but Emil decided not to do anything but listen.

"I couldn't explain it to the scientists, and they wouldn't listen to me, so I realized I needed something else: something _more_." Now, Feliks copied Emil, drawing his legs up to his knees and hugging them tightly. "I _had_ a trigger, you know."

"So?" Suddenly, Emil had never felt so horrible saying that one word, especially since Feliks was being _nice_ to him. The uncaring and slightly annoyed tone in his voice only made it worse. And sure enough, the older boy shot him a stinky look with a haughty, disgusted expression.

"Ugh, seriously? I'm just saying," and now the despicable drawl was back in his voice, "Like, stop acting all pitiful and bratty because your brother is out there and alive. Maybe you'd rather the scientists like, slaughter him in front of you so his death can be a trigger for you? _Please._ "

And then he pushed himself onto his feet, and strolled to Sadik, who had been absentmindedly listening to the entire conversation.

Emil was at loss. He didn't know if he should feel offended or guilty, but before he could decide, the door outside the cage rattled open, revealing a very frazzled-looking Tino.

The scientist was panting lightly, and his clothes were a bit awry, as if he had fast-walked all the way here. Tino glanced around the hallway first, before stumbling in, and gasping, "Emil!"

Emil raised his head once more, but he didn't want to move from his cozy position in the corner.

"Emil!" Tino gasped again, and he looked so desperate and shocked, but at the same time so _hopeful_ that the young boy uncurled and went to greet the scientist on the other side of the thick bars.

"Emil," the scientist repeated again, reaching past the bars and grasping his shoulders before giving him a small shake. "Emil, it's your brother."

For a moment, the words refused to register in his mind.

And when it did, all he could force past his lips were, " _What?_ "

"Your brother, it's your brother, he's coming here!"

Emil shook his head, mind reeling. He swallowed quickly, before demanding, "Lukas? Lukas is coming here? What do you mean?"

"I got a call," Tino explained. "He's coming over. He's coming to get you!"

Lukas… was _coming_? Lukas, who was always cautious, never reckless or risky, was coming _into the Underworld_? To _find_ Emil?

But… how?

"My friends were calling," Tino was explaining, even though Emil hadn't uttered a single word. "They couldn't speak outright because the lines are always monitored, but it's him! I know it is!"

It didn't matter how Tino got the information; Emil didn't care. His ears were clogged, his mind was hazy and slow, but his body functioned on its own.

"Where are the keys?" he found himself asking. "Where are the keys to Arthur and Ludwig's locks?"

Tino paled, dark eyes darting around the cage nervously before saying, "Um… upstairs. The office upstairs, second drawer of the middle desk. But what-"

But the scientist never finished his question.

The boy in front of him had disappeared.

* * *

Emil was running silently down the hallway, the marble floor cold beneath his invisible feet. He could hear his own blood pumping through his veins, despite his molecules being spread apart by his rapid movements.

Stairs. Where were the stairs? He was in an unfamiliar part of the lab, and there were no signs pointing him towards the direction.

And then he remembered the numbers on the doors.

Very quickly, he glanced at the nearest one: Room 7.

The next was a familiar room: 6.

Emil pushed himself to run faster, the doors and numbers flashing past until he was in front of a door at the end of the hallway, marked '1'. He shot straight past it, and then found himself running up a flight of stairs where a final door waited at the top.

And then there was light.

It was not the cold, harsh white lights of the laboratory.

This light was warm and yellow and red, adding a tinge of pink to the pristine white walls. A sign hanging from the door told customers that the place – whatever it was – was closed for the day. When Emil held his hand under it, he could see the rays of light shooting through his loosely centralized atoms.

The sunlight was warm and wonderful, and slowly, he stepped fully into the light, allowing it to stream past in a waterfall of gold. He felt like it had been ages since he had felt sunlight, but knew that really, it hadn't been that long. Not compared to people like Feliks and Sadik, who had apparently been there for _years_.

Emil couldn't imagine not seeing sunlight for such a long time, and there was an ache in his heart as he glanced out the large windows of the building to see _people_ outside, strolling down the streets, casual, oblivious, the smiles on their faces brightened by the golden, setting sun. Its bright rays were scattered by the glass of the windows, and they shot past Emil as if he didn't exist. It was bright, it was beautiful, and it comforted Emil to no end. He felt like he could just stand there forever, feeling the warmth of-

But then, it _burned_.

Emil stepped into the shadows so quickly, and choking down a pain-filled scream, his body half-solidified, before a hasty gasp of breath forced the molecules apart once more.

But, oh, how it had _burned_. It was so sudden and unexpected, and his cells were on fire.

But why? _Why?_

Through a haze of pain, Emil momentarily remembered his true intention of coming here, and he stumbled painfully to the middle desk, reaching out with trembling fingers towards the second drawer.

Even after he was submerged in weak shadows, the burning did not relent. It was a painful, endless itching on his skin not unlike a sunburn, but possibly worse.

His fingers were like wind that grasped the drawer handle and jerking it open, groping blindly inside. They closed around something soothingly cool and hard, thin, with irregular ridges down a small valley. Something that clinked together as Emil lifted it up.

Keys in hand, Emil slammed the drawer shut and took a desperate, running step towards the waiting staircase, through the doors and into the white, metal hallway that wrapped its soothing cold light around him and began to cool the irritation on his skin.

He nearly missed the room with the speed he was going, but he noticed the security camera in the middle of the hallway and did a sudden swerve that brought him through the wall, and into the Tank.

The moment he was inside, Emil solidified completely, falling down onto his hands and knees, gasping and coughing as his burning skin finally began to settle down, and now it was only the shock and pure exhaustion of using his powers for a too long period of time.

"What…" He hadn't realized that Tino was still inside, and the scientist was staring at Emil as if he had grown another head.

Emil decided to ignore him, allowing himself to draw in a few more steady breaths before strolling to Arthur and opening his palm in front of him.

There was a bright clink as the keys, linked together by a small hoop, fell onto the ground, bouncing once before rattling to a stop in front of Arthur. The blonde man was staring at the tiny golden keys with wide, vivid green eyes and a parted-lip smile, looking slightly maniacal, but so hopeful that Emil just couldn't try rubbing it in his face anymore.

Arthur was unable to pick it up with his locked hands, but Ludwig did, and he marveled at how such a small, frail thing was able to act as such a huge barrier in his life. However, before Ludwig could try the things on his locks, the door to the Tank silently swung open, and everyone stiffened.

The woman who entered didn't even spare Tino a glance as she shifted through a large chain of keys, finding a certain one and unlocking the cage door.

No one moved.

Natalia was pushing a wheelchair into the cage, and she stopped in front of Arthur and Ludwig, looking expectantly at the former. The blonde man sighed and struggled to his feet, then flopped into the wheelchair. Restraints sprang up immediately, tying around his ankles, wrists, and waist. She shot a despising glare towards Feliks, who stared defiantly back; the door was locked, and once again, Tino was ignored.

Only after her footsteps faded away, everyone relaxed, finally breathing again, and Emil couldn't help but ask, "Why don't you ever try to fight back when she comes?"

Tino was the one who answered hesitantly, "Natalia came to the lab a little time after me, but she… she's not a scientist. I think she studied it in college, but in the Underworld, she is not considered a scientist."

"Then what is she?" Emil was genuinely curious.

"I'm not too sure… but I heard that many people died."

And that was the end of that. Tino wouldn't say anymore, and Emil couldn't bring himself to ask. So he averted his attention to Ludwig, who still held the small key in his broad hand.

Seems like freedom would have to wait.

* * *

 **As mentioned before, very boring chapter. It's not very well written, sounds kind of forced, in my opinion. However! My opinion does not matter too much right now, but YOURS do. So please Review, and tell me what you think! Thank you for reading!**


	16. Half-Chewed Gumsticks

**Chapter Fifteen**

After being dropped off, they spent half an hour in the nearest public bathroom.

Alfred and Matthew had handed them two small, but relatively heavy bags when they left, but Mathias had been too nauseous to hold even one of them, which resulted in Lukas doing all the heavy lifting while the other blonde emptied his stomach's contents – which really wasn't all that much – into the toilet. Despite his near-empty stomach, Mathias continued to gag and retch, heaving dry most of the time as his insides tried to rearrange themselves so he could function properly again.

Lukas sat outside in a nearby shade, not feeling too awesome himself, but slightly better due to the seatbelt that had held him in place. The two backpacks leaned against him, sloshing and crunching suspiciously every time he shifted.

The time was noon, and it was nearing summer, and staring at the blinding Australian sun, Lukas prayed that there was at least one block of sunscreen in the bags.

So he pried the bags open, digging up gigantic water bottles filled to the brim, several energy bars, rolled up sleeping bags, spare pairs of socks, a selfie stick, and no sunscreen. Not even a hat or umbrella.

At that moment, Mathias decided to stumble out of the restroom, groaning, but cheered up a bit when he saw the bags.

"What's inside?" he piped happily.

"Nothing useful," Lukas mumbled unhappily.

"Ooh, energy bars…" Mathias snatched one up. "Dark chocolate and peanut! Sweet!" He tore into it immediately, munching the protein bar in high spirits. He probably already forgot about the plane ride and his time spent in the bathroom. After he finished, he licked the melted chocolate smeared on his fingers, then asked, "So, what now?"

Lukas remained thoughtful for a moment, staring out at the sweltering hot sun before answering, "Track down the place as soon as possible. Preferably before night."

"B. Oxenstierna, 42 Wallaby Street, Sydney!"

"Yes, shouldn't be too difficult."

And then Mathias threw his head back and laughed.

Lukas frowned lightly. "What's so funny?"

The answer was unexpected. "You're a strange person."

 _How was_ Lukas _the strange one?_ "How come?"

"Even though you're so close to your brother, E- um…" Mathias scrunched his face up in thought. "E… Eddie? Eiffel? Ethel?"

"Emil."

"Emil, yeah- but you don't seem excited at all! Aren't you happy you'll be seeing Emil soon?"

Lukas hesitated. "I… am." And he wasn't sure why he was even saying this to a mentally crippled person, "but I'm afraid he wouldn't be happy to see me." And there it was, the horrible, embarrassing truth.

Mathias remained silent for a moment, and Lukas thought that he might have forgotten everything already; but then the taller teen snorted, and began giggling uncontrollably.

Despite his usually cool mask still remaining tightly in place, Lukas could feel a faint blush crawling up his neck towards his cheeks. "What?" he demanded, "What is it?"

"That… that was the… stupidest… thing… I've _ever_ heard," Mathias choked out.

 _Not like you remember anything,_ Lukas wanted to reply, but the other blonde continued to elaborate, slowly calming down. "If Erbil really is in the Underworld, anything from 'the living world' would make him happy, even your old, grumpy Aunt Sally."

"I don't have an Aunt Sally." _He didn't have_ anyone _in his family other than Emil._

"That's not the point." But he didn't _have_ \- "The Underworld is like a Nazi or Soviet advertisement. It offers nice, pretty things, tricks sometimes innocent, always talented people into its claws, snatch those people up, chew them up, and when the taste is all gone, it spits them back out and leaves them to dry on the side of the street, with nothing gone but an empty mind and soul."

"That's-" _ridiculous,_ Lukas wanted to say, because now, he had so many opinions that he just couldn't make himself actually express.

"People begin to regret it the moment they've realized they have stepped into a trap. Of course, some people never realized that, and sometimes, they are envied. Oblivion is valued above wickedness, which stands one step ahead of talent. The victims are the conscious, the righteous, the weak, and the stupid; they are the ones dragged into hell without a choice, so _of course_ , _of course_ he'd be happy to see you, Lukas." Mathias was staring blissfully towards the sky, not at the brightly shining sun, but at the wispy clouds in the distance. His lips moved, but his expression yearned for something Lukas did not understand. "Of course Erik would be happy to see you," he repeated. "He'd be happy to see _anything_."

"Emil," Lukas couldn't stop himself from blurting out a correction.

Mathias turned to him, blinking confusedly, "Who?"

"Emil," he reminded him again. "His name is Emil."

"Did I say something?" The confusion was spreading across the taller blonde's face.

"You-" but then Lukas cut himself off, deflating a little bit as he took in Mathias's clueless expression. "Never mind." He had forgotten already…

"So… what did you say we were going to do?"

"Find the place," Lukas mumbled.

"Well then, let's go!" Mathias leapt to his feet, grabbing one of the backpacks and slinging it over his shoulder. "B. Oxenstierna, 42 Wallaby Street, Sydney!"

Lukas pushed himself up, grabbing the other bag. He gave a long sigh, watching as Mathias pranced out onto the street, a dopey grin on his face. Reluctantly, he left the comfortable shade of the tree, and into the blinding sunlight. He used a hand to shield his eyes, and looked around, trying to find-

"Hello, Miss! Would you happen to know where- Ooh, you have pretty earrings…"

There was shrill scream. " _DON'T TOUCH ME!_ "

Lukas sighed. And just when he thought Mathias might be getting a little better…

* * *

"Tino, where're m' keys?"

Tino jumped in his seat, turning to the head scientist of the Underworld lab with tense shoulders and a nervous ringing in his head.

"Um… which ones, Berwald?"

"Th' ones in m' draw'r." Berwald did not seem accusing or suspicious, but Tino was still incredibly nervous.

"O-Oh, those… erm…" Tino swallowed thickly before answering, "I-I don't have it, sorry." _Of course he doesn't_ have _it._ "I mean, I haven't seen it; I don't know."

"…" Berwald didn't say anything else, other than making a small noise to show that he understood, and began riffling through his other shelves. A small frown appeared on his face when the keys still weren't found, making Tino gulp. Berwald seldom showed expressions, and if it was appearing now, it was a bad omen.

A bit numbly, the young scientist turned back to his computer, beginning to type slowly. He only got past two sentences when the sudden sound of slamming drawers snared his attention. Berwald was stalking towards the door behind the desk, his expression blank once again; but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes behind his glasses.

"Tino," he said, stopping at the entrance to the lab, "Tell Natalia to be on guard."

"N-Natalia?" Tino stammered.

The scientist's deep voice was cold with carefully concealed fury. "There's a reason why the Underworld sent an assassin to us."

And then the door slammed shut.

* * *

The time was 6:49, dusk.

Their location was: somewhere, Sydney, Australia.

Lukas could still smell the sea and hear faraway waves lapping on a beach, but the soothing effect was lost as he murmured their destination – once again, beneath his breath to remind himself of his purpose here.

And it was _his_ purpose, because Mathias obviously didn't have any. Not when he had been the one who scared away all the people they approached.

"Howdy, sir! I like your shirt, it's really cool, and where did you get those sandals? I have a beaver on _my_ shirt, but it's not as cool as yours. By the way, would you happen to know where to buy kangaroos? We're in Australia, right? Also, I'm looking for- Hey, wait, don't go!"

Lukas sighed, and turned away, pretending not to know him. The street was beginning to empty: people were returning home, or were eating dinner in the many restaurants.

"B. Oxenstierna, 42 Wallaby Street, Sydney," he muttered again as he trudged down the road. Behind him, Mathias was knocking on the door of a random shop, only to be kicked out a few moments later. Lukas kept his eyes downcast, repeating the address to himself over and over again.

While he was distracted, his shoulder slammed heavily into another person, and Lukas stopped temporarily, turning around and apologizing quickly with a small, apologetic nod.

And then he realized that the person he had bumped into was very strange.

It was summer in Australia, and even though the sun was setting, the temperature was still warm. Much too warm, especially for a long trench coat and heavy scarf. When Lukas raised his gaze to the man's face, he found sharp, prominent features: a large, straight nose, high cheekbones; he had a heavy built and an impressive height. His hair was a silvery blonde, even lighter than Lukas's, and his eyes were a deep, shining violet. There was a gentle smile on his pale lips.

"It's no worries," the man was saying, his voice unexpectedly sweet. But there was danger lurking, and alarm bells began to ring in Lukas's head. Why did this man look so familiar? "I'm not hurt, so no need to be so apologetic, _da_?"

He was courteous enough, but none of the words really registered in Lukas's mind until the man took his hands from his coat pockets, pulling out a piece of crumpled paper. He spoke as he smoothed it out. "There is one thing you can do for me, though…" There was a short pause as the man looked at the paper, then back to Lukas's face.

Sirens were screaming inside, and Lukas unconsciously took a step away. But the man was faster, and something cold and strong closed around his neck, squeezing tight.

It was when he was beginning to suffocate that he noticed the truck behind the man.

And the black words painted on the white shell.

 **UDW**

 _"LUKAS!"_

That was Mathias. Mathias was calling out to him, running towards him, reaching for him-

It wasn't Lukas reaching for Emil as the man squeezed the breath out of him – out of Lukas – and throwing open the truck while he couldn't do anything.

He couldn't do anything.

"Mathias…" he choked out, hands clawing at the man's arm, black dots swimming over his vision and blurring it.

"Let go of him, you son of a-!" Mathias's insult was cut short as the man – with one hand still around Lukas's neck – swung his other arm around and slammed Mathias to the floor.

"Well, isn't this our little runaway!" the man sounded so disgustingly delightful that-

 _Runaway?_

The world was growing black.

The truck's open doors were like a gigantic mouth, waiting to be fed.

"I know." The man's voice was soft and gentle, but crueler than anything Lukas had ever heard. "You wanted to find your brother, _da?_ "

 _Welcome to the Underworld._

* * *

 **Please Review! The craziness is going to start! The next chapter is really difficult to write though, so I apologize beforehand if I update very late. Thank you for reading!**


	17. Two-Faced Bastard

**Chapter Sixteen**

The shadows were jeering at him. The coldness was biting, the metal was laughing. The air was suffocating him.

"Lukas," Mathias whispered, barely audible. His bright blue eyes were dull and unseeing. "Lukas, stop." He was shivering, and his elbows were resting on his knees; he had woven his fingers together at the back of his head and dragged it down so he was staring at the ground, with the inside of his arms pressed against his ears, trying to block out the sound.

The sound of pounding. The sound of ringing metal.

The sound that echoed in the chamber at the back of the truck and reverberated, humming in the air, lingering in their ears, piercing through them with thin, tiny knives.

But Lukas wouldn't stop.

He was pounding on the back door of the truck, rage and desperation rolling off of him in icy waves. He didn't know how long he stayed like that, but he knew that the truck had been moving and they were going somewhere – probably somewhere Lukas would never be able to find Emil.

So he wouldn't stop. Not with this situation. It didn't matter that his hands and arms ached; it didn't matter that his throat was parched dry, and his head was swimming, his vision blotted with black. The only opening was a tiny, bulletproof glass protected window barely the size of his head at the front of the trunk, where, when opened, Lukas could see the back of their kidnapper's head, and catch a glimpse of the road where they were driving on. The glass wasn't soundproof, and they could hear the radio playing on the other side; but the trunk apparently was, which was probably why they haven't been discovered yet.

Lukas continued to pound, his breaths scratchy against his dry throat, his chest heaving as his lungs struggled to draw in another breath. He needed to leave, he needed to find Emil. He was running on pure desperation.

And then something _cracked._

A scream ripped itself out from Lukas's mouth, and he clutched his hand, which was dark and wet with something warm and wet… blood. The scream had echoed several times before fading, and even after that, Lukas was gasping, hugging his broken hand to his chest. Something warm was sliding down his cheeks, but he couldn't force his hands to cooperate with the curiosity of his mind.

Then Mathias was there, his expression scarily blank, save for the lips that were tilted down in a light, worried frown. He brushed a finger over Lukas's face, his large, calloused hands hard and cool, and that was when Lukas realized that he had been crying without realizing it and without knowing why the tears were falling. Mathias used his sleeves to dry his cheeks, and then he leaned forward, pressing a lingering, comforting kiss on his forehead. Mathias's lips were chapped and scratchy, but that kiss blew warmth into Lukas's freezing body, and for a moment, the black became a magnificent, fiery red, and the world was beautiful. He had never realized how strong Mathias really was until the taller blonde wrapped his arms around him and carried him to a nearby crate, where Lukas settled comfortably to deal with his throbbing, very possibly broken hand.

And then Mathias took to opening boxes.

Most of the trunk space had been occupied with crates and cardboard boxes, many of them clinking and sloshing suspiciously every time they encountered a bump on the road.

The first few boxes Mathias tore into was filled with bottles of wine and alcohol. One particularly large one held – of all things – a drum set, which seemed to be the main culprit of the noises. Another two revealed yards of silk, satin, and velvet, as if the truck was a renaissance trade cart. But on the seventh box, they hit gold.

Almost literally.

That single box told them a lot of things. One was the fact that the driver of the truck was definitely an Underworld trader, just like Antonio. Another was that there was hope.

Guns, rifles, knives, swords, daggers, spears, even a bow and arrows: the crate was filled with _weapons_.

But Mathias didn't stop there, though he did pause a moment to pick up a handgun and appreciate the way the dim light reflected off of its polished surface, and how it fitted perfectly in his hand.

The next few boxes were more useless junk, and then Mathias uncovered one filled with medicines and drugs. He riffled through them, gingerly extracting a few small bottles and placing them on the ground beside him.

Finally, the blonde turned to Lukas, who was still nursing his broken hand against his chest.

"Give me your hand." He was using _that_ voice again: the voice that was so different from his normal, goofy cheerfulness; the voice with an icyness that reminded Lukas of murders and screaming and blood on the walls. He couldn't make his body comply with Mathias's command until the taller boy took the hand himself and yanked it towards him.

Lukas gave a soft cry of pain, and Mathias immediately softened, looking a little guilty. He had taken a bottle of alcohol, and popped it open before dumping half the contents onto Lukas's hand. It burned _horribly_ and began to throb relentlessly, but Lukas grit his teeth against the pain and allowed Mathias to begin exploring his injuries, his fingers prodding a few places that made Lukas hiss.

"I need you to drink this." Mathias handed him a small bottle which he had opened beforehand.

"What is it?" Lukas inquired. It smelled sickeningly sweet, and when he lapped up a few drops, he found his tongue numbed.

"Something that will help with the pain when I set your hand."

Immediately, the bottle was empty.

It took a minute for the drug to do its work, but it did its work well, and when Mathias counted to three under his breath, then realigned the bones with a prominent _crack_ , Lukas barely flinched.

The downside, though, was that Lukas had gone almost completely numb, pins and needles pricking his mouth, his arms, his abdomen, and slowly travelling down. Mathias was wrapping up his hand tightly with the silk cloths, and even made a makeshift sling out of satin for Lukas to rest his arm in.

"I don't need-" Mathias laughed when Lukas gagged, his tongue and jaw still prickling, and the pale teen threw the cloth rope back at him. It smacked Mathias in the face, and the atmosphere began to relax as some kind of harshness inside the taller blonde seemed to slowly ebb away while he chuckled quietly.

"Now," he announced, "we break out of the stomach of a whale."

Lukas didn't bother to comment – not with his paralyzed tongue. But he got wobbly to his feet and made his way to the crate filled with weapons, trying to ignore the little spikes that shot up his feet and legs as he walked. But Mathias nudged him away and dominated it instead, strapping two guns and a knife to his belt, tucking a bag with unassembled rifle parts under his arm, before turning to Lukas and arming him as well.

The weapons were an uncomfortable addition hanging at his hips, but it made him feel strangely secure. With his good hand, he pulled the knife from its sheath, feeling the smooth hilt between his fingers and grasping it comfortably. Mathias then reached deep into the box and pulled out – shockingly enough – a battle axe.

He looked overjoyed, and gave it a few experiment swings, nearly decapitating Lukas in the process. Mathias didn't mind the glare shot his way, laughing it off easily, before turning around, and with full force, slammed the blade into the corner where the door and walls met.

The force of the attack made the entire truck tremble, the clanging sound of metal meeting metal piercing through the air and leaving a residual ring. Mathias ignored it all, continuing to hack at the hinges of the doors until the top screw broke with a screech. The second one soon followed, but not before the truck stopped moving.

It was only the second time Lukas had handled a gun, and this time, he could only use his right hand, but it didn't matter. The gun was already loaded, and he turned off the safety with his mouth, pointed it at the small window, and began to shoot.

Every shot made his entire body jerk back, but he continued to release a barrage of bullets onto the bulletproof glass until it shattered.

The front of the truck was empty. But it was then did the second hinge gave way, and the door flopped open with a long creak.

The trader was waiting outside, holding two guns, one pointed at each teenager. Lukas froze immediately, but Mathias remained unperturbed.

"What's your name?" he called, his voice light and cheery.

"That would not matter to you, little traitor, _da_?"

Mathias whistled mockingly, a twisted grin on his face. " _Rude!_ "

The trader laughed. "You are one to talk. You do not even remember the name of the people who saved your life!"

"Now you've got something wrong there." Mathias let the head of his battle axe to fall, the spear at the tip digging into the metal floor. "People don't save _my_ life. _I_ save my own life. _I_ save other people's lives. Not the other way around. And my name is Mathias Køhler! That is one of the few names I need to remember, the few names I need to know: nothing else."

"Not even Irina Braginskaya?" It sounded like a taunt, and it worked like a taunt, but Lukas couldn't tell how exactly it affected Mathias other than the sudden sagging of his shoulders and slackening of his grip on his weapon.

The trader grinned, but it was more like a simple baring of his teeth, and there was a wild, maniacal gleam in his deep, violet eyes. _"Traitor."_

Then the gun pointing towards Mathias fired, and for one second, all Lukas could see was that sudden flare of fire at the barrel of the gun, and the reflection of metal against the stars. No blood blossomed, and there was an empty sheath at Mathias's hip, a bullet falling to the ground with a gentle _clink!_

"It was not my fault," Mathias growled, the knife raised in front of his chest as a shield from that single bullet. The coldness and cruelty was seeping back into his voice, and Lukas _hated_ it. It made his hands tremble and his breath hitch, and the gun fell from his grasp onto the ground. "I _save_ people's lives."

"A hypocritical thing to come from the mouth of a killer, _da?_ " the trader shot back, his voice just as bitingly cold.

"I remember you," Mathias breathed, and if the situation wasn't so serious, Lukas would've given him a disbelieving look. "Irina talked about you."

"When she saved your life."

"She saved my life," Mathias repeated, his grin growing wider, "Perhaps she did. Let's say she did. And now are you going to kill the person she saved? You're wasting her honorable efforts."

"She should not have wasted her time on you in the first place." The trader's voice was bitter and angry.

"You have a younger sister, don't you? Irina mentioned it." Mathias changed the topic now. "The one who was taken away and disappeared off the face of the earth?"

There was a flicker of shadows in their opponent's eyes.

"I think I know where she is." _No, Mathias,_ Lukas was pleading silently, _please don't say it_.

"If you don't want her dead body mailed to you, I suggest you put those guns down and let us go. I can beat you to the ground right here and now, then kill her, or you can let us go."

"Or I can just kill you right now." Lukas could see the trader's index finger pressing against the trigger.

"Except then, you will never find her." Mathias's expression was triumphant while the trader's stance went slack. "The Underworld is too vast and manipulating for you to ever track her down again. Let us go, and when it is confirmed, we will tell you her location, and all will be well."

The silence after that was so tense that Lukas could almost feel the particles trembling, until very slowly, the trader lowered his guns. "It's a deal then." His voice was impossibly cold. "My name is Ivan Braginsky. Don't you dare forget."

"Lukas, let's go," Mathias sheathed his knife and ignored Ivan, who watched them with his intense violet eyes as Lukas picked up his fallen gun and followed Mathias out of the truck, pass the trader, and down the road. He could feel Ivan's eyes burning on his back, but Mathias walked with his usual easy swagger, and Lukas kept his head high.

They walked for a long time before they reached the more populated areas, but it took even longer for the tension to truly disperse. Thankfully, Mathias hadn't brought the battle axe with them: it would've been very difficult to explain. They walked in a single file, and only after they knew for sure that Ivan couldn't see them anymore did Mathias allow Lukas to catch up.

"So… where to?" Mathias dared to ask, lifting a hand to ruffle through his unruly blonde hair.

But Lukas didn't answer, and Mathias seemed visibly uncomfortable about that, to the extent that he reached out to grab the other boy. They both stopped, still a little bit distance from the bright, shining lights of the main parts of the city.

"Hey," Mathias spoke in a small voice, "Hey, Lukas, what is it?"

And then he couldn't hold it in anymore. "What is it?" Lukas repeated disbelievingly, "What was _that_? Handing out threats as if you've done it your entire life!" He didn't know how to express his wild torrent of emotions. "Speaking like that! Remembering…" _someone Lukas didn't know._ It wasn't anger. Lukas wasn't feeling angry – not for saving his life; not for helping him. He was feeling… jealous. "Remembering…" Why though? He didn't know Mathias until recently. The other boy had his own life before that. Why was he jealous?

"Lukas," Mathias whispered. "Lukas, please…"

"How can you do that?" Lukas was beginning to raise his voice, and it hurt his throat: the drug's effects had faded for some time. "What did he mean? Who is Irina? How are you a traitor? How are you a _killer_? How can you just- just…" There were too many thoughts in his head. He was drowning: he was sad, but there were no tears, and it wasn't anger that made his hands tremble, or envy that made his heart ache. It was just a hurricane inside of him, tearing him apart and fraying his mind.

"Lukas," the taller blonde repeated. He raised a hand to touch Lukas's cheek and cup his jaw. "Lukas, I'm sorry." And then he pulled Lukas towards him, their foreheads bumping together with Mathias's hand pressing at the back of his neck. "I'm sorry." And suddenly, his voice cracked, and Lukas glanced up to see something broken deep inside those bright blue eyes, and this time, it was Mathias whose cheeks were stained with tears.

So Lukas tipped forward and pressed his lips against Mathias's cheek, tasting the saltiness and regrets. And even though some small, cruel part of him didn't really yet, he replied, "I forgive you."

And just so Mathias could stand up strong once again, the way he had done so many times before, Lukas added, "Thank you for saving me."

That smile Mathias gave him made lying so much more worth it.

* * *

 **Hi! I updated fast! Admittedly though, this chapter didn't turn out the way I wanted it to, and I think it actually kind of sucked. For you DenNor supporters, this chapter was a fake call. I doubt there will be much more of that until much, much later into the story, more possibly in Finding Mathias (Finding Dory, basically).**

 **Now, to answer some reviews: No, Russia is not the assassin from the prologue. I did mention something about the assassin having green eyes, didn't I? And no, no contacts. I wonder if anyone can guess who the assassin actually was~**

 **But either way, please review! Favorite, Follow, do all that, and REVIEW! It is much appreciated. Thank you for reading. The action is beginning to rise...**


	18. Crumbling Masks Can't Hide Eyebrows

**Chapter Seventeen**

Ice was spreading through the walls; silence was a sharpened blade scratching against metal.

But Emil's mind was screaming, because they knew. The voice sounded so strangely like Lukas, yet it wasn't really, and it kept whispering and shouting and muttering and wailing, _"They know, they know, they know, THEY KNOW!"_

Tino had told them before that apparently, a lot of people had died, and now Emil understood.

Natalia stood attentive at the door of their cell, just outside her bars. She was no longer wearing design clothing, but a dark and imposing outfit, similar in style to a military suit. Her hair was held in a high, stiff ponytail that pulled up her hairline and made her seem even more alert. Her pale blue-grey eyes were trained at the door of the room, her body seemingly relaxed but hands in positions that can easily reach the knives and guns strapped on her belt.

According to Kiku, she wasn't the only one. Guards were scattered everywhere in the Underworld lab, poised at every corner and turn and door, just because some keys had disappeared.

Keys of high importance, that is.

Ludwig had cleverly hidden one of the keys under his cuff, sliding it between the flesh and metal to keep it secure and out of sight. The other key was wrapped in white gauze around Emil's crippled arm. Tino had insisted on keeping his arm wrapped, in case it doesn't heal properly, and now, it came to its uses.

Until the mechanics came.

For the first time, Emil was escorted out of the cage, along with all the other prisoners. Ludwig and Arthur were taken somewhere else – Ludwig passing the key he held in possession to Emil – while the rest spent two hours in Room 6, guards standing at the corners of the room and waiting outside as well.

When they returned, it was a sickening sight.

Natalia was the one to let them back into the cell, the lock beeping in confirmation when it scanned her finger smartly and recognized her. The bars of the tank were still thick and heavy, but it was now smooth and polished silver, and when Emil's finger brushed against it, he was met by a sharp zap that was not particularly painful, but very shocking – both literally and figuratively, the hairs of his arm standing up straight for five minutes afterwards.

Ludwig and Arthur had been drugged and had their restraints removed, only for them to wake up in new cuffs, or in Arthur's case, new iron gloves, that was completely smooth, had no key holes, and could only be opened by digital computer command.

In anger, Ludwig took the two small, fragile keys in his broad, strong yet weighted hands and crushed them to dust.

The guards disappeared, and the next time Natalia came, she was once again wearing high quality clothing and shoes with a crisp white lab coat outside. With her return, she brought bad news.

In truth, she didn't say anything. But she entered the room and walked along the wall until she was in front of the door of the cage, and her movements were hesitant as she allowed the mechanisms to scan her finger and the door swung open. She stood there for a long time, discreetly biting her lips, and she looked so much younger than she usually did when the cold and regal part of her began to drip away from her face. It took her visible effort to reapply her mask onto her face, and it still quivered as she glanced with wide eyes at Emil, and his stomach filled with lead.

Natalia cleared her throat before speaking, her voice still steady and clear, but not as frigid. "Doctor Oxenstierna's nephew-"

The room door slammed open. Everyone jumped, Emil especially high, and Natalia whirled around with an irritated snap barely leaving her lips before she choked and swallowed it back in when the door, silently swinging, revealed a cheerfully smiling young boy.

It was hate at first sight.

There was something completely, disgustingly fake about the boy's smile, like he was trying to appear nice and likable by wearing a Halloween mask. He had a head of ruffled blonde hair, half covered by a blue cap lopsidedly worn; his eyes were a pale, near colorless blue, like the sky glazed over by a thin layer of frosty air, but a strange light shone deep behind the clouds that made Emil take an instinctive step back. However, the most disgusting part of the young boy was – of all things – his _eyebrows_. They were thick beyond imagine and dominated half of his forehead like two very fat, very furry caterpillars. Emil would have laughed at him if it wasn't for the way the boy carried himself, like he was a king, and the strange, repulsive glow in his eyes grew brighter when his gaze swept across the room and landed on Emil. When the boy sauntered up to him, Emil realized that he was extremely short, though at the moment, he seemed so much taller as he held the power in his hands.

So this was Peter, Berwald Oxenstierna's nephew.

Emil almost expected something more, something better or more impressive from the person who was going to kill him just for the sake of hearing him scream and breaking him to pieces, before he corrected himself and knew that it was enough – it was too much.

The fact that he was going to die was overwhelming enough.

The fact that he was going to be killed by someone shorter than him somehow made it worse, and also a little bit insulting.

"It must be you!" Peter exclaimed, dramatically excited. Surprisingly, he stuck out a hand for him to shake. "Nice to meet you, my name is Peter!" _As if he didn't know that already._ "What is your name?"

Emil faltered, not taking his hand, mainly because the electrified bars were still between them, but also because the mere thought of touching Peter and speaking to him sent chills crawling up his spine. It took _effort_ to speak. "My name is Emil."

"Emil!" Peter clapped his hands together in mock delight. The sickening smile grew wider. "I'm sure we'll get along very fine!"

And then the supposed child prodigy spun around and skipped out the room.

The room was silent for a long time afterwards, everyone staring at the open door, until Natalia cleared her throat again and said, "Come with me, Emil."

It was the first time he had heard Natalia call an experiment by name, and it frightened him more than it should have. But he gave a stiff nod, and willed himself to walk out the cage. The woman – once again crisp and down to business, began to lead him out before Emil glanced back at the rest of the group – people from all over the world with so many different stories that Emil suddenly wished he had asked, and words tore out of him so suddenly it surprised himself as much as it surprised everyone else.

"When I come back," he blurted out, "I'll get you all out of this god-forsaken place."

It was a dangerous thing to say with someone loyal to the Underworld right in front of him and a security camera just outside the door, but he had no control over the words, and it was a promise his mouth agreed on before his mind did.

But Natalia did nothing, except her shoulders stiffened, and she wouldn't look back or say anything even if her life depended on it. And then Feliks screamed, his hands shooting up to his face and grabbing fistfuls of his golden blonde hair and digging his nails into his scalps, falling against the wall and sliding down as the last of his long breath left him and he was left gasping and shivering in one corner of the Tank. Feliciano burst into loud tears, and then Natalia had grabbed his hand, dragging him out and slamming the door shut behind them, and they hurried down the hallway with screams and wails and desperate sobs echoing on the cold metal walls.

* * *

 **Happy New Year! This chapter is a little very boring and short, honestly speaking, but I had to walk 40 minutes from my grandparents' house to get Internet connection to post this chapter, so please review anyway. I don't have much to say this time, except that next chapter, Lukas and Mathias pretend to be terrorists. It should be fun, but judging by my minor writer's block, I'm not sure how well it'd turn out. Once again, please review! God knows I need some inspiration.**


	19. A Game of Spy

**Chapter Eighteen**

It turned out that Ivan had brought them closer to their destination than he had intended to. Lukas and Mathias entered the city, dragging their weary bodies around and asking for directions from anyone who would still be roaming the streets so long after the sun had vanished below the horizon.

A digital clock was glowing on the front desk, and they found it when the numbers switched to zeroes and ones and the clock beeped twice.

 ** _10:00_**

It was dark save for the quiet glow of clocks and exit signs, and the only movement inside was the flow of water inside a tank of colorful, exotic fish.

B. Oxenstierna, 42 Wallaby Street, Sydney, was a dentist's clinic.

"Isn't that a little ironic?" Mathias commented, his words muffled as he pressed his face against the glass window to peer inside. Lukas, on the other hand, was more interested on _where_ the Underworld could have hidden his brother in a dentist clinic. But the place was closed and securely locked, and Lukas didn't particularly want to be arrested for breaking and entering a dentist's clinic with the only explanation being that he wanted to find his brother.

According to the sign stuck on the building's double glass doors, the clinic opens everyday at ten in the morning and closes at eight.

Only twelve more hours to go.

Lukas wasn't particular enthusiastic about spending the night in a nearby alleyway, behind two large garbage cans, but for some reason, Mathias seemed extremely excited. While Lukas was trying to ignore the stench of the garbage and adjust to the hardness of the ground and the wall he was leaning against so he could rest, Mathias rocked back and forth on his bottom with a bright glint in his light blue eyes. Lukas had begun to nod off slightly when the other boy suddenly poked him on the side.

For one, terrifying second, the mask of indifference slipped off completely, and Lukas choked on air, stifling a forbidden giggle. Seeing a reaction, Mathias's expression brightened even more, and he poked him _again_. And _again_. And he _wouldn't stop_.

Lukas used to consider himself a very patient person, but after meeting Mathias, he wasn't so sure anymore. His stomach hurts from self-control, but at this rate-

The poking stopped. But Lukas remained tense, doubting that he'd sleep at all tonight. He didn't sense much movement behind him, so Lukas slowly reached up and readjusted his cross-shaped pin to keep most of his bangs out of his eyes. His light blonde was tangled and dirty, and when he ran his hand through it, he could feel the dust that had collected on him. He'll have to do something about it after he gets Emil back.

Mathias still hasn't moved, and Lukas slowly let down his guard. Judging by the soft breaths behind him, the taller blonde might have fallen asleep. Lukas shifted a little, hand brushing away a little rock that had been digging uncomfortably into his leg.

And then someone pinched two fingers around the little curl sticking out from the back of his head, and dared to _pull_.

The reaction was immediate. His vision suddenly blotted out with black ink, he couldn't see anything until there was an erupt explosion of light, like fireworks, and he was both hot and cold all over, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice down his shirt while pouring burning hot water over his head. It was a horrible, lingering feeling that left him gasping and shuddering and _that. Was. It._ Lukas was going to _murder_ the boy.

He spun around to face Mathias, who had a dopey, confused grin on that cursedly handsome face, his lips tightly pursed to keep himself from snarling at him. But Mathias possessed quick instincts that Lukas kept forgetting about, and the moment he turned around, the other blonde poked him not-so-gently in his exposed stomach. Lukas doubled over, gasping, but Mathias was already reaching out again and _no, don't poke there!_

 _"Stop it!"_ Lukas demanded, his voice shriller than he'd ever admit it being. Mathias was laughing, not stopping even after Lukas elbowed him in the stomach. Finally, he simply placed an arm around the shorter blonde's shoulders – Lukas's attempts to shrug him off failing – and pulled him closer, still chuckling. But slowly, gradually, the excitement died down, leaving the two boys leaning against the wall and each other, at the brink of sleep.

Lukas shifted slightly, and heard the sound of cloth scratching against bandages under Mathias's shirt. "Is your shoulder okay?" he mumbled, only realizing then that he was leaning on Mathias's injured shoulder.

"Fine." Mathias's answer was a relaxed exhale of air. "Your hand?"

"It's only been a few days." Lukas remained stubborn on the topic.

"I heal fast. I'll take the bandages off tomorrow."

Sleep was blurring his thoughts now, slurring his words. "My hand doesn't feel too bad either." Mathias had wrapped it tightly enough for most of the pain to have been squeezed out.

"Mmhmm…"

It was the first time they naturally fell asleep in a long time.

 **Δ**

Tino had a song stuck in his head. He knew the tune, but couldn't remember the name, lyrics, or singer, and it was driving him crazy, because it was only a chorus on repeat, over and over again, never ending. All attempts to get rid of the song so far had failed, and after two hours, Tino had given up.

It was noon, he was hungry, uncomfortable in the stiff suit he wore every day, and going crazy with that song in his head.

Peter had arrived some time before the clinic opened, and was already downstairs with his uncle, doing God-knows-what. Tino shook his head, sighing softly. Just thinking about the boy made him sick, and the way Berwald spoiled him… His thoughts wandered from one boy to another, and thinking of Emil, Tino just wanted to rush to the lab, grab the poor boy, and get him the hell out of here. Except that'd get both of them killed, and dying wasn't part of Tino's To-Do list.

He was sitting at the front desk of the dentist clinic again, not wanting to be trapped underground in the lab. Except it was so _boring_. There was nearly no one in the clinic, only a teenage girl with her mother, waiting for the two Underworld agents working as dentists to fix her braces. Tino envied the dentists for having a normal, well paying job even though they were technically part of the Underworld as well, like him. Not that the Underworld doesn't pay well, but their jobs were… eh…

As the temporary man behind the desk, all he needed to do for now was look after time tables and charts to assign appointments or print some stuff. Though even in the lab, his job was also to organize the data, basically no dirty work. While that was relieving, it was also a bit insulting; it was so different from what he had majored in the one year he had spent in college, and what he had specialized at while in one of the Underworld's home bases.

Just as the nurse gestured at the girl to follow her, two boys entered the clinic, the little bell on the glass doors clinking quietly as they slunk in. Tino looked up, hands reaching for the files before freezing, the primary reason being how dirty and battered they were. Their shirts were ruffled, torn, and filthy, their hair a nest of tangled things perching on their heads. But they strolled in casually despite looking so obviously homeless. The teenage girl's mother saw the boys and was visibly appalled, going so far as to stand up from her seat and hurry after her daughter and the dentist, who had disappeared in one of the rooms.

The main reason Tino found himself speechless, however, was the fact that despite the grime and weariness and all those years that had passed, he still looked the same.

He had grown taller, sure, his shoulders broader, stronger, but it was the same face, the same hairstyle, the same goofy, confident grin. His blue eyes were still lit up with the Northern Lights and stars, but the darkness had grown, and it made him more terrifying. And there was also the fact that the last time Tino had seen Mathias Køhler, he had been a monster snarling and baring his teeth at people who had once been his friends, screaming and howling bloody murder and cursed traitor, and Underworld leaders had dispatched guards to bring him back to the base to be executed.

Strangely enough, the boy next to Mathias was familiar as well. The jaw line, the downwards curve of his mouth, the nose and high cheekbones, indifferent expression on the elegant features and soft curves…

It took him a full minute, plus a full sentence from the boy to realize that he was Emil's brother.

"We would like to make an appointment."

All they received was a shock, open-mouthed stare.

Emil's brother cleared his throat and repeated, the tiniest hint of annoyance in his monotone voice, "We would like to make an appointment."

"Oh!" Tino snapped back to himself, clamping his mouth shut before forcing the words out, trying to keep himself from stuttering. "An, uh, an appointment! Um…" Except his hands were trembling so hard he picked up the wrong file, _twice_ , and could barely hold a pen or flip the page. "Er… W-What time would you, um, like… like the appointment?" And he was starting to stammer as well.

"Now."

"Now?" Tino gulped, peering up from the files and charts. Mathias was glancing around the room, looking bright and cheerful, but a little bored. He was quietly humming a little song under his breath, and when his light blue eyes met Tino's dark blue-brown ones, the scientist was shocked to see that there was not an inkling of recognition. Had Mathias somehow _forgotten_ …?

"Yes, now." Emil's brother, Lukas, was quite cold, in his opinion. He didn't show any emotions, and the ones that did peek out from behind that mask of indifference wasn't anything positive or cheery.

"Um… okay." Tino bent over slowly to press the shaking pen onto the chart to mark down-

"Oh, there's no need to write it down." He jumped when Mathias spoke. "We'll be in and out in a flurry!"

"Okay…" Tino answered weakly, not sure what to say. "I-Is there someone you prefer? Or just-"

"Oxenstierna. Is there anyone called B. Oxenstierna in here?"

Tino's heart stopped.

He nodded, very, very slowly, swallowing nervously before saying in a quivering voice, "Doctor Oxenstierna is currently unavailable." Tino looked down again at the paper and picked up the pen, not daring to look up as he continued, "If you want, I can help you assign a different time or-"

It was a familiar sound, and for one second, Tino hated Emil so much for making this happen to him. The familiar click of the safety switched off on a gun. The coldness of the metal killing machine pointed at his head, and when he looked up, he stared through a long, black tunnel to see the little lead ball, sitting so innocently on the verge of murder.

"We're not exactly giving you a choice."

Tino dropped his pen, raising his hands immediately. For some reason, his hands decided to stop shaking now. Perhaps it was the familiar feeling of being in the presence of a killer, or at least someone similar to him, and when Tino looked at Lukas again, he glimpsed past the pretty features and saw a gaping black hole starving and ready to gobble everything up, its host included.

It made Tino smile, and as if he had stolen it, Mathias's grin disappeared. "What an ugly, twisted, _disgusting_ thing you are," the scientist whispered.

But Lukas just pressed the tip of his gun against Tino's chest. "Oxenstierna. Now."

And that's when his mouth lost control. "You're looking for Emil," he blurted out. There was a satisfying, immediate reaction, Lukas's eyes widened and his fingers slackening for a moment before tightening again.

"How do you know that?" he inquired coldly.

"Emil told me." It was the truth. "I know where he is, I'll bring him to you."

"You're not lying, are you?" Mathias was the one who spoke, and Tino wanted to sob at the sound of his voice and the distrust in it. "You wouldn't want to be lying."

"No," Tino answered breathlessly. "Vladimir – Vladimir Popescu told me that you were coming, I mean, well, technically, he told Alfred, and Alfred told me. I-I've been waiting." Not true, but irrelevant. "I will not lie to you, I promise."

Mathias touched Lukas's shoulder, very gently, and that was all the confirmation the blonde needed. The gun returned to its place hanging on his belt, and Tino let loose a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Where is my brother?" Lukas demanded.

"Downstairs," Tino answered, pointing to the door behind him. "But before that… let's play a little game of spy."

* * *

 **This chapter is... ugh... I hate the ending. I hate the middle. I hate the beginning. Okay, the beginning wasn't that bad. But I hate the ending. But after much hurrying to the airport and a thirteen or fourteen hour flight, I'm finally back home in my cozy room with strong internet connection and a cup of hot chocolate. But this chapter is horrible. I'm so ashamed of it I almost didn't post it. It's just so-! So...! So... I don't know. I hate it though. I'll try to do better next time, and I'm planning to start planning Finding Mathias. Life is so tiring. And boring.**

 **And since it's so boring, let me ask you: do you recognize all the characters in the story? Mainly, the green-eyed assassin and the golden-eyed assassin, that is. Who is Liet and why is he the one Feliks talk to while being trapped in his own head? Why is Arthur covered in scars? What is the relationship between Mathias and Irina that made Ivan hate him so much?**

 **Technically speaking, these questions would all be answered when I write Lost and Found, a sequel/prequel of Finding Emil and Finding Mathias, but it'd be fun watching you guys guess!**

 **So please review, favorite, whatever you want to do. I appreciate reviews the most, though, so please do that. Thank you so much for enduring this terrible, unsatisfying chapter!**


	20. Screaming Without Lungs

**Chapter Nineteen**

The 'little game of spy' turned out to be two new shirts, ties, and lab coats, and then they embarked on their quest into the belly of the beast.

Lukas and Mathias were as dirty as ever, but they were now wearing a dress shirt outside the ridiculous shirts Vladimir had given them, and a tie was choking around their necks. The stiff lab coat flapped like a cape behind them as they walked, and Mathias swaggered down the long flight of stairs as if he was a superhero posing for a movie scene. Lukas felt restrained as he pulled the coat's sleeves again because the material was not smooth enough for it to be worn comfortably outside so many layers. It was also too thin to protect them from the sudden chill, dry air of a world existing underground, and Lukas decided that whoever designed the lab coats was stupid.

The Underworld lab was a labyrinth of halls and doors. The walls and ceiling were metal, the ground was white marble tiles polished till they could see their reflections in it, and everything was washed in a dead, white light that made the place feel like a morgue. Their footsteps echoed as they crossed the empty hallways, but muttering voices filtered from the many rooms, the metal walls seeming to vibrate and echo and save every word that was spoken. There was a security camera situated at every turn, something Mathias and Lukas was wary of at first, but Tino ignored. There were too many people in the lab for the people watching through the lens to recognize them, Tino explained. The lab coats are enough to guarantee them safe passage to almost anywhere; if they meet someone in the halls, all they have to do is act professional.

"The experiments are in the E wing," Tino murmured.

"Which wing are we in?" Lukas asked, not seeing any signs other than the numbers on the doors.

"B wing." They've been walking for nearly ten minutes!

There didn't seem to be an obvious 'main hall'. Everything was crooked and strange, and Lukas couldn't help but wonder how the map of the lab looked like. If there even was one, that is.

Despite all the exercise they were doing, Lukas began to shiver. The temperature gradually decreased as they entered deeper into the Underworld, until his breath misted slightly in the air and his teeth were chattering. Mathias was hugging his arms, while Tino was unperturbed, probably already used to the cold.

But just when they stepped into the C wing, they heard loud talking, almost shouting. The voices echoed clearly in the halls, frantic, desperate.

"Medics!"

"Number 47-"

"-coughing up blood!"

"What's happening?! Natalia!"

"We need _medics_!"

"Make way!" somebody bellowed. Tino glanced back at the two teenagers, and the three of them exchanged confused gazes.

"Did somebody get murdered?" Mathias frowned.

"I have no idea," Tino breathed. His pace quickened. "It came from the E wing. I have a bad feeling about this."

"Can I take this off?" Mathias complained, tugging at the collar of his lab coat. "It's so uncomfortable."

"Hush," Lukas shushed him, and the other blonde pouted, but didn't say anything else. They began to run, down the crooked and twisting corridors, the voices getting louder with each step until they burst out in a wide hallway, similar to all the others they've passed, other than the fact that it was filled with people in white coats.

Everyone was crowded at the doorway of one room near the end of the hallway, chattering in loud voices that drowned in each other. As they headed in the direction, the crowd suddenly parted, and a bed surrounded by more doctors or medics was being pushed out of the room. They hurried past the scientist and two teenagers, still huddled around the bed, snippets of their frantic conversation reaching their ears.

"He's losing too much blood-"

"-some kind of sickness… have to check the other subjects as well."

"-not breathing!"

"What…" Tino tried to ask when the group passed them, but was promptly ignored.

"Get him to the emergency room. The blood-"

"Out of the way! Out of the way!"

"-dying! His heartbeat-"

Tino and Mathias wondered, but Lukas wasn't listening.

Lukas felt like he was suffocating. His lungs wouldn't suck in the air his body needed, his heart felt like it had stopped. His blood felt like lava, or maybe it was ice, but either way, it burned through his veins and arteries and capillaries and it felt like it was spilling out his ears, his nose, his mouth, his eyes. His ears were clogged, his vision blotted out with red and black ink and he felt like he was drowning or burning or rotting or breaking and he like he was _dying_. The world was spinning the world was frozen the world was _crumbling and screaming and weeping because_ _he saw_. When the medics ushered past them, he had peered over their shoulders and he _saw_.

At first, it had just been red, a dark crimson that had splattered on snow white sheets like shapeless blossoms. But the blood had a source, and the source was coughing, writhing, and there was blood _everywhere_. He recognized in slow motion the small, skinny form, the white blonde locks of hair, now streaked with red and-

Emil.

There were blood everywhere and the medics said someone was dying and there were no breaths or heartbeats and the person on the bed had been _Emil_.

They had just passed each other in the hallway and _Emil was dying_.

Time stopped.

Lukas screamed.

* * *

 _How does one commit suicide without killing oneself?_ Emil wondered. He didn't know how long he had been in the room, but it had been a long time, just sitting on the cold, hard bed and leaning against the wall. Natalia was on guard by the door, but she stayed inside the room. From time to time she would check her watch, but Emil couldn't muster up the courage to ask her for it. If he had to guess, it's been at least one hour, very possibly two, and his bottom was starting to ache from sitting for so long. He knew that they were waiting for Peter, to do what he didn't know, but it was taking such a long time that Emil almost wished the boy would hurry up and just get on with the torturing already.

His mind wandered as he waited, and he remembered the first time he woke up in this room with his arm crippled and his mind distorted. It was where everything started, and now, it appeared to be where everything will end.

When he thought about what awaited him, he couldn't help but shudder. Feliciano's brother was killed by Peter, and Emil briefly wondered how he died. The image that floated up in his mind after the question did nothing to comfort him.

He glanced at Natalia, then down at his right arm, still tightly wrapped in white gauze. He didn't even remember it breaking into pieces or how, but it was another mystery he was willing to let go. Before, Emil had thought that the broken arm was his side effect, but now he wasn't so sure. He remembered the burning pain of the sun that time he had escaped-

He had _escaped_.

He had escaped, but the sun had burned him back into the shadows and if it was still daytime outside, he wouldn't be able to leave the place at all. He also couldn't uphold his gas form for too long, and Natalia was watching, so the moment he disappears, they'd start searching.

Emil sighed. Escaping right now would be out of question. But perhaps if he postponed his 'appointment'…?

How?

If he was in a horrible condition, unable to be Peter's patient, would they still send him to the other boy? According to Tino, Doctor Oxenstierna spoiled Peter, which meant he would want the best products for his nephew. If Emil was faulty or temporarily broken, it was possible for him to gain more time. Now the only problem was how can he make himself seem sick?

He thought back to when he first discovered his powers, how he had managed to make one part of his body solid, while the rest remained scattered particles in the air, and vice versa. When he was completely in gas form, every atom of Emil had disconnected, and it was during those times when he could feel the gears in his body: the way his heart continued to pump even though he was technically not one body anymore, and the way his blood still flowed despite no longer being liquid. His muscles still strained as he ran, his bones still supported him, and everything was still the same – except everything was air.

Suddenly, a sick, curious thought entered Emil's mind: what if he kept his shell – the bones and skin and muscles solid, but applied his abilities to his innards? What would happen? They'd probably remain inside of him – hopefully they would, but how would it feel like? Admittedly, it was one of the worst ideas Emil had ever had. He didn't realize just how terrible it was until he actually attempted it.

The effects were almost immediate. His body panicked. Pain exploded in his abdomen as his cells screamed in confusion. Emil didn't realize he had screamed until he stopped and it echoed back at him, and Natalia was by his side, expression frantic and horrified. Emil gagged, but prevented himself from throwing up; he didn't want to accidentally puke out some parts of his guts.

Now why did he think this was a good idea?

Instincts made him force his insides to solidify, except somehow, that made it _worse_ because was his stomach supposed to be stuck under his small intestines?

Emil gagged again, and this time, he did throw up, though thankfully, not his literal guts. But then he opened his eyes and saw red all over the place and realized just _what_ he had gotten himself into.

It was pain he had never experienced before. His guts were like scrambled eggs, but his brain was calming and it shut down the useless, human part of his mind that panicked and switched on the machine.

His guts turned to air again, and more blood came up, splattering on the floor, the bed sheets…

People were shouting, pooling into the room, but Emil didn't notice anything. His brain was slowly processing and sorting out the situation, commanding his body cells on where to go and to stay together; don't kill the host.

But it hurt _so much_ …

His surroundings jerked, and then started rolling away.

People dressed in the same lab coats, the same suits and expensive clothes, surrounded his bed, their chattering voices sounding the same as they bounced in his aching skull.

When his stomach solidified again, now in the right place, connected with the right organs, he felt another wave of sickness wash over him, blood clawing up his throat as he gagged and coughed.

His large and small intestines had reconnected, slowly coiling and piling up on top of each other properly. Their writhing made his empty stomach protest, and he couldn't stop coughing and heaving.

He was slowly regaining consciousness, especially after his abdomen calmed down. But the pain burned on, and he kept coughing as if there was something lodged in his throat. A few words here and there began to register in his mind, and those were words he wasn't sure he liked or not.

"-not going to survive-"

"-weak heartbeat… not breathing…"

Emil knew he was going to be fine, his brain told him so, but that didn't mean he can't pretend not to be. He wasn't completely healed yet either, so that made the job easier. For extra effect, he spat out a mouthful of residual blood, coughing and gagging. The scientists, doctors, whatever they were, were pushing him down the halls. They mentioned something about an emergency room, and he almost smiled, triumph crowing in his mind. His plan was working, and he had never felt so proud of himself.

Until a very familiar voice screamed.

* * *

 **So! I'm actually quite fond of this chapter. It used to be longer, but I looked back and thought that here was a good place to end and decided to cut it off. So next chapter will be pretty boring, just a quick warning. Thank you for the reviews, and special thanks to GreyLady1575! She opened my eyes to a lot of things I hadn't exactly been conscious of before.**

 **Also, yes, it's what character in Hetalia is playing the characters whose names weren't revealed. For example, the two assassins earlier in the story. Thank you for reading, and please review!**


	21. Numb

**Chapter Twenty**

"Lukas?" Tino asked, bewildered as Mathias grabbed the blonde's shoulder, keeping him from chasing after his brother. Lukas was struggling against Mathias's strong grip, which tightened until his shoulder began to bruise, but he didn't feel anything.

"Let go of me, you big moron!" he shouted, tearing at the other teenager's hand. "That's my brother; he's _right there_! Emil!" His last word was directed down the hallway towards the gaggle of medics.

People were staring at the three of them, confused, and one person stepped out of the crowd to demand, "Tino, what's happening? Who are these people?" It was Natalia, her expression cold but shocked at the same time, especially after witnessing the entire event. But Tino didn't answer – he couldn't, and she harrumphed, scowling at him despite the quivering of her bottom lip and trembling fingers before she turned to the two teenagers.

" _We came here to find my brother and he's RIGHT. THERE!_ " Mathias had circled around Lukas to act as a barrier, and the smaller blonde was shouting and punching and writhing, trying to get past him. "My brother is _dying_! Emil! Get _out_ of the way!"

"Lukas, stop it!" Mathias pleaded. "Calm down! We can't do anything like this!"

"Who are you?" Natalia interfered, cold blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're not from around here." It was a clear observation.

The sudden realization that their cover had been blown temporarily distracted Lukas, and he spun around to face the girl. There was a moment of silence.

"I like your hair band," Mathias piped up timidly. "The bow is very pretty."

She stared at him, her glare piercing, her chin lifted proudly as if to tell him 'of course' and 'shut up' at the same time. But then she blinked, and her eyes widened into an expression of shock and recognition. "You're… You're Mathias Køhler. The Viking."

Mathias also blinked. "I don't know about Vikings, but yes, that's me. Can you read minds?"

"You should be dead," Natalia whispered. "You should've been dead for _two years_ already." There was something strange about the way she said those words, like she was horrified, but had suspected it all along. There was venom in her voice as well, as vicious as a starving beast contained in an icy cage. Her blue eyes were shards of unforgiving ice, blizzards swirling and choking and freezing the life from its victims. She took one small step forward, then another, fingers twitching towards her belt.

But Mathias was quicker, and suddenly, something cold and condemning was pressed against Tino's temple, and Mathias's arm was choking him, pulling him into the position of a hostage. Lukas's gun was in his hands too, pointing towards Natalia. She froze, but not for long. When she moved again, it wasn't towards Mathias, but towards Lukas, and suddenly there was a dagger in one hand, a gun in the other, her movements so smooth and sudden that he recognized immediately that Natalia was not actually a scientist. She was an assassin.

"Natalia, th't's 'nough f'r now."

It was a deep, heavily accented voice that wasn't very loud but sounded intimidating nevertheless. The crowd parted, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered man in a lab coat. His face was a blank mask of neutrality, blue eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses narrowed into a permanent glare. Lukas felt a shudder run up his spine when the doctor's intimidating gaze scanned him like a well-oiled machine, then turn to the other two people. With his eyes staring at Tino, he asked Mathias, "What're you doing h're?"

"We're looking for my brother," Lukas answered.

The scientist's gaze shifted to him, and his reply was slow. "I wasn't speak'ng t'you."

"Now you are." He lifted his chin in a show of defiance. "Give me back my brother."

"He's not h're."

"I just saw him; he's here."

"Yer mistak'n; he's not."

"Yes, he is."

"No, he's not."

"Yes, he is."

"No, he's not."

"Yes, he-"

"Hey, you! Doctor!" Lukas had never been so glad for Mathias's lack of patience. The taller teen waved his gun around before readjusting the aim back towards Tino's temple. "What is your name?"

Lukas frowned lightly. It was an irrelevant question.

But then he watched as something resembling shock and confusion flash past the man's otherwise blank face, and a strange feeling suddenly arose in his stomach. "M' name's B'rwald Ox'nstierna."

Mathias's mocking grin disappeared; Lukas tightened his hold on his gun. So this was Doctor B. Oxenstierna, the recipient of a certain package that happened to be Lukas's brother. For some reason, he had been expecting more of a mad scientist look, not a big, towering giant with about as much emotions as a rock, not like Lukas was in the position to complain about that.

"Yer M'thias Køhl'r."

Mathias raised his chin, attempting to look down at the scientist. "Yes, that'd be me." Then he frowned. "How do all of you guys know?"

Something flickered in Oxenstierna's eyes, and Natalia rolled her eyes, scoffing quietly beneath her breath. "You're a traitor. Anyone who bothers to keep up with the news knows that."

There it was again: _traitor_. It was obvious now that Mathias had a connection with the Underworld, a long time ago, a connection he had forgotten, but others had remembered. Every time Lukas heard the word directed at the other teenager, he felt a strange kind of rage mixed with grief burning inside of him, because it was such an ugly word to call someone, but he had no idea what happened that made people believe it was a fitting title for Mathias. He was afraid that if he found out, he would hate him as much as everyone else.

Lukas glanced briefly at Mathias, whose face was utterly blank, then to Tino, whose purplish eyes were wide and nervous, his fingers grappling Mathias's arm, but strangely relaxed at the same time, as if he trusted him. His lips were moving discreetly, whispering softly a message to Mathias.

In that half a second of distraction, the assassin struck.

She moved like a rising storm: it was upon you before you knew it. Her dagger was suddenly under Lukas's chin, ready to slice his throat open, and her gun was aimed without her needing to look, finger already pressing the trigger to splatter Mathias's brain onto the metal halls.

A shot cracked through the air, but it was Natalia who shrieked in pain. The gun clattered to the ground, the blade disappeared from Lukas's throat as she stumbled back a step and pressed her hand against her other forearm, where a bullet had torn a line through her flesh before digging a hole into the wall behind her, the blood staining the pristine white coat of her disguise.

Mathias's gun was smoking, and he released a breath of relief when he saw that he hadn't missed. And then, his arm loosened, pushing Tino away from him, and the two teenagers bolted.

Shouts rose behind them, echoing and vibrating along the thin walls. Doors and hallways shot past them in a blur, the many twists and crooks quickly hiding them from the pursuing scientists and guards.

"Follow the numbers," Mathias called between gasps of breath. "There are fifty rooms in all." The two teenagers slowed down enough when they passed by another door to see the number. _Room 11_.

The next was Room 13.

Well, just great.

"At least we know we're on the right track," Mathias pointed out cheerfully.

The voices behind them were rapidly increasing in volume.

"Run!" Lukas hissed, and the two of them took off once more, except this time in a slightly slower pace so that they could keep track of the room numbers.

 _19, 23, 29, 31…_ The numbers seemed random, but it was increasing, and they sped up a little when a gunshot cracked through the air behind them, their pursuers not yet losing spirit. They were on the right-

 _28, 26-_

 _Crap._

They backpedaled quickly and changed coarse. _38, 42, 43…_

Lukas was panting, breath misting in the air, and he was growing uncomfortably hot in the lab coat despite the near-freezing temperature of the lab. His muscles strained and protested, his heart pumped desperately. They skidded around another curve-

And there it was. The door at the end of the hallway – that had to be the exit. They didn't care about the numbers anymore, they just dashed towards the unassuming metal door that looked completely the same as all the others they had passed, but was very possible their savior.

There was a whisper of footsteps behind them, and suddenly, Mathias barraged into Lukas, knocking him against the wall. His broken hand – still tightly wrapped – throbbed as it connected with the hard surface. Mathias yelped as a dagger sliced a shallow, narrow line across his cheek before embedding into the wall, quivering slightly.

Natalia moved surprisingly fast for someone in dress pants and high heels, not to mention the stiff lab coat she had yet to abandon. One sleeve was bloody and torn, strips of cloth wrapped around her minor injury that didn't seem to affect her at all, judging by the precision she had thrown the dagger with.

Lukas shot up to his feet, grabbing the back of Mathias's shirt and hauling him up as well. The hallway was straight: there was no place to hide.

There was a gun in Natalia's hands.

The first bullet whizzed past their ears, drilling a hole into the door they were reaching for.

The next wasn't even aimed towards them, but the metal handle of the door shattered one second before Mathias reached for it. Cursing, he slammed into the door, putting in all his weight, and it rattled on its hinges. Lukas had grabbed the broken doorknob, ignoring the metal cutting into his hand, desperately twisting it.

He didn't even feel the third gunshot until pain erupted from his calf and his left leg collapsed, his knees cracking onto the tiled floors. Abandoning the broken handle, Mathias taking over it instead, Lukas raised the gun he had hastily stuffed into his pocket, aimed sloppily, and fired.

Natalia didn't even flinch; the bullet missed completely.

Well, that was that. His arm felt numb from the recoil, but then another gun fired – behind him. Mathias was firing at the doorknob, breaking it completely. Natalia bared her teeth, stepping forward, but Lukas forced his trembling arm to fire again, this time towards the assassin's feet. It nicked the ground in front of her, not touching her, but stopping her for a second.

The firing behind him stopped. Mathias gave a small sound of triumph, and Lukas felt a rush of warm air as Mathias yanked open the door – now with a hole where the lock used to be. Much to Lukas's annoyance, the taller teenager swept him up in his arms like a damsel in distress and – didn't start running.

Instead, he faced Natalia, who had her gun raised and ready, but not yet pressing the trigger.

"Hey, you," he called, and the girl lifted her chin, pointing her nose high into the air with a haughty expression to show that she was listening. "Would you happen to be related to Ivan Braginsky?"

Before the question could register in Lukas's pain-addled mind, Mathias had turned and began running up the stairs.

 _What?_

The girl's face reflected the same question that popped up in Lukas's head, her eyebrows furrowed, her stance slack.

Then the tattered door concealing the way back to the living world swung shut, and for a moment, they were running in warm, dry darkness. The nerves on his left leg were numb with pain: he could barely feel the injury anymore. Mathias was panting heavily as he hurried up the long flights of stairs, each breath hot and wet against Lukas's neck; his back and hair was soaked with sweat, and he smelled terrible. Lukas knew he wasn't much better, but he just had to tell the other boy, "You stink."

Mathias just threw back his head and barked out a breathless laugh. Lukas allowed a small smile to grace his lips as well, before a jostle from Mathias sent a throb of dull pain shooting up his leg, and he grimaced as he remembered that a bullet had cut his leg, and part of the warmth came from his own blood, not the surrounding air. Small drops splattered onto the metal stairs and he suddenly remembered.

Blood was _everywhere_.

Last time, the blood hadn't actually looked like blood; it was too dark, already drying, and that made the smears of crimson on the wall seem more black than red. But this time, the blood was fresh, and it glistened in the dead white lights. It was beautiful in the most hideous way: staining, spreading, dying, leaving, as if no one depended on it, as if it was free.

Lukas remembered the screaming, how it had sounded bestial and guttural as his parents choked on their own blood as it bubbled past their lips, coughing, gagging, suffocated by their own life – just like Emil.

Emil was dying.

Emil was dead.

But just like before, Lukas couldn't bring himself to reach past the numb curtain so he could mourn or weep. It was times like these, he realized, that he truly couldn't feel anything.

* * *

 **Hi! As I've mentioned, this is a relatively uneventful chapter: just one action dragged out for a very long time into a chapter of decent size. Wish you enjoyed it anyway, and please review! Exams are coming up and I'll need it. Thank you!**


	22. Burn from Inside Out

**Chapter Twenty One**

Emil never thought that he would hear gunshots outside of movies and video games, but that was what he was hearing right now. Each shot echoed down every hall, the sound piercing and frightening, the walls trembling as the bullets ricocheted.

But the gunshots were insignificant compared to the screaming inside his head. It was such a familiar voice, but torn and shredded by horror and shock into something terrible. The voice started screaming, and it never stopped. It wasn't completely wordless, but it had been warped and changed so that it took Emil a long time to realize that the voice was screaming his name, over and over until it began to drive him crazy.

 _EMIL!_

 _EMIL!_

 _EMIL!_

 _ **EMIL!**_

 _LUKAS!_

He couldn't hear himself screaming, but he could feel the air chaffing his raw throat. There were hands everywhere, and they grabbed at him, holding him down against the hard mattress, the blood that had yet to dry smeared across pure white surface.

"LUKAS!"

He was in another room, the same as all the others, except the lights were yellow and weak, and the air of the room buzzed with electricity and energy of machines that beeped and pumped and did God-knows-what. Something was being pressed into his mouth, but he locked his lips, thrashing. A needle pricked his skin, and he jerked his arm away. People were talking around him – talking _to_ him, but their voices were foreign and unimportant and _where was Lukas?_

Lukas – Lukas had been there. He was in the halls, and he had called Emil's name.

 _I have to go find him._

 _How?_

The room was spinning. "Lukas," he pleaded quietly, "I want Lukas."

 _Air_ , his thoughts reminded him. _You can become the air. Run away, find Lukas, esca-_

 _No!_ his body replied, remembering the pain, the messed up organs; his abilities were _unnatural_.

 _You've done it before_ , a voice inside his head urged. _It's not that difficult._

 _Lukas came all the way to find me. Why can't I do the same for him?_

And suddenly, he was so, so tired.

The medics have unwrapped the gauze around his crippled arm, and it fell lifelessly at his side, twitching occasionally, its skin gray and dead and bruised at the same time, deformed by bumps of improperly healed bones. He wondered how it would look in an X-ray photo. He wondered how Lukas would react when he sees it.

The needle pricked his arm again, an irritating pest. It dug beneath a layer of skin, his heart pumped wearily, and then the IV needle fell onto the bedspread, a few drops of colorless liquid leaking onto the bed sheets now that the vein it was supposed to pierce into was gone.

But Emil was still there. The medics could still see him, albeit seeing _through_ him as well.

And then he vanished.

In truth, all he had done was sit up and swing his legs over the side of the bed.

When he walked past them, his footsteps silent but the floor cold under his feet, all they felt was the softest of breezes. Passing through walls gave him a feeling of being squeezed through a tube: it was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Nonetheless, Emil willed his particles to reconnect after he had entered the halls.

It's easier when doing it as a whole, he noticed. His entire essence was the same element, so it's easier to control.

He stretched his limbs, ignoring the camera staring at him at the end of the hall, listening to the medics panic inside the room. A glance at the door told him the 'Emergency Room' was Room 8. There was an exit near Room 1 which Emil could use, if the hallway wasn't still completely clogged with people – not that that'd be much of a problem either.

Emil began jogging down the hallway, passing Room 7. He turned around a corner, finding a familiar room.

Room 6's door was still hanging wide open, and when he peeked in, he found splatters of blood still staining the white tiled floors. It was completely empty now that they've wheeled out the bed, and briefly, Emil wondered what all the rooms were used for other than being occupied for brief hours. Were there other prisoners in the lab? he wondered. It's certainly big enou-

"Hello!"

Emil shuddered, despite only recognizing the voice after a moment. When he looked up, he saw a boy similar with him in age poised at the end of the hallway, blocking his road to freedom.

Far, far away, a gunshot sounded, quickly followed by another.

Peter didn't even look surprised to see him; in fact, he seemed _delighted_. "Fancy seeing you around here, Emil," Peter said cheerfully, a wide grin splitting his face apart.

"What are you doing here?" Emil bit back, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Oh, I was just wandering around." The other boy waved a hand dismissively, turning a bored expression to the entrance of the room Emil stood in front of. "After all," the grin turned malicious, "I _can_. Guards!"

 _Shit._

 _He acts like a prince,_ Emil thought furiously, _a spoiled, pompous, self-absorbed, sadistic-_

Something cold pressed against the back of his head, and Emil froze. There was a prominent click that sent him shivering – not from the cold, which he was already used to, but from an animalistic fear. It was the feeling of someone standing behind you as you peer over the side of a cliff with no railings, ready to push you over; it was the feeling of someone who's not you or anyone you trust holding your life in their hands.

Emil didn't need to look to know that someone was holding a gun to his head, and many more are pointing theirs at him as well. There were footsteps, and men and women wearing the same white lab coats as everyone else circled around him, their aim never faltering as they trapped him in a flesh cage, blocking Peter and his disgustingly smug expression from view. Sadly, they were unable to block out his snide, self-righteous voice or his creepily fake laugh as the nephew of Berwald Oxenstierna chuckled and told the guards, "Drug him, but don't give him too much. I want him to be awake during our appointment."

* * *

"Kiku, what can you see?"

The Asian man had his eyes tightly shut, his face pale and tight with concentration. "I can't find him," he murmured. "He's supposed to be in Room 6…"

"Well, find him!" Sadik barked.

"Wait…" Kiku's eyes shot open as he gasped. "There's blood on the floor!"

"What?!" Feliciano cried in distress.

"Check Room 8," Arthur commanded. "It's the Infirmary."

Kiku nodded, and closed his eyes again, reaching out with his sight. The hallways rushed past, through walls and people and doors and- "Room 8 is… occupied, but Emil's not here." He began to retreat, back into Room 6, where he looked around again, examining the lack of furniture and the blood on the floor. Perhaps there was blood in the hallways as well…

He didn't notice anything. Maybe it has already been-

"Emil!"

"You found him?" Ludwig asked.

"Yes, I think he's trying to escape – but… oh no…" Kiku groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Peter…"

Everyone grimaced, except for Feliks, who was oddly silent. He showed no signs of hearing anything as he stared, strangely enough, at Arthur. Or more specifically, something hovering above Arthur's head; something only he could see.

 **02: 11: 37…**

Suddenly, Kiku's eyes snapped open once more. "Arthur!" he cried in distress.

The blonde frowned. "What?"

"Emil's surrounded! They're planning to drug him – you have to do something!"

"You know very well I can't!" Arthur shot back. "If I could do _anything_ , _none_ of us would be here anymore! Can't you see that I'm wearing _iron gloves_? Iron repels magic: there's nothing I can do!"

"Do you have to use your hands?" Feliciano piped up nervously.

Sadik was quick to agree. "Yeah, I thought you said your abilities were raw magic? You should be able to do anything."

"With my hands," Arthur clarified. "My hands help control the magic. And anyways, the iron gloves repress my abilities. Magic is like energy when doing sports. It's something you need to replenish, and the iron doesn't allow that."

The room fell silent.

"But," Arthur continued, mentally sighing in defeat, "I'll see what I can do."

He ignored the triumphant glances and high fives, and instead, began to dig. He dug for a long time, deeper and deeper than he had ever dug before. The halls were covered in cobwebs, the floor weighed down by dust, creaking with his every step; everything was dark, and there was dead, musky smell in the air. There were many doors, most of them locked and will likely remain locked for the rest of his life. Even so, he tried every single one, until one wooden door, similar to all the others, swung open to reveal nothing but webs, rotting wood, and a single, flickering candle in a candle holder standing in the middle of the room.

It's not nearly enough, he thought, but he picked it up, allowing it to light up his way as he continued hurrying down the corridors and trying the doors. As he continued on, the wood became older, more rotten, some floorboards falling away when he stepped on it. A small breeze began to pick up, and he had to shield the weak candle he held to avoid it being blown out. Nevertheless, it flickered uncertainly, and Arthur almost got a heart attack when the flame momentarily disappeared from a particularly strong gust of wind before slowly growing back.

And then he reached the end of the hallway.

There was a pair of heavy wooden doors, majestic in its size despite the rotten and crumbling wood. They swung open as he neared, allowing him entrance into a large chamber with floors covered in thin, dusty rugs, peeling paint on the walls, and moth eaten curtains drawn open to reveal beautiful French windows with dirty panels of glass in rattling frames and nothing but darkness outside; a chandelier of dull crystal hung from above, casting weak, muffled silver light around the room. But what caught his attention was a single corner, where there were several armchairs with torn surfaces, stuffing spilling and springs peeking out. There were a few small, round tables as well, crumbling books and spider-infested tea sets perching on their dusty surfaces. Arthur sniffed, resisting the urge to sneeze, and stepped into the room. The doors behind him slammed close, and the candle in his hand was snuffed out immediately by the wind it caused.

It did not come back, but that no longer mattered to Arthur. Hidden behind the armchairs, cackling merrily and warmly, was a large fireplace. He ran to it, feeling it warm him to the core, mesmerized by the dancing flames. He had never known, never realized, that there was a place like this. He had never allowed himself to believe there was still enough energy. Scattered candles here and there, yes, but never something like _this_.

Arthur reached out tentatively, not because he was afraid of being burned, but because he was afraid that the flames would refuse him.

"Just a little bit," he whispered as the fire danced away from his fingertips.

 _Iron!_ they wailed, the voices unreal but perceptible, sounding faraway and faint and tiny, like echoes of shadows.

"I know," he murmured soothingly, "but just a little bit."

A single tendril of flame reached out at him, brushing his skin. Arthur didn't move.

 _Well?_ they seem to ask. _What are you waiting for?_

"I don't know."

Fire was beautiful and warming and comforting, but fire was also hungry and greedy and impatient.

"Wait," Arthur said.

 _No_ , they replied. They wanted more, and more, and more-

And all of a sudden, there was nothing but flames. It consumed the dry, rotting wood, lapping at the carpets and furniture; the door crumbled, and the hallway was a river of fire. Arthur was in the heart of the hearth, and he was burning, coughing, suffocating, dying.

"Listen to me," he rasped, his throat scratchy, his eyes watering from the smoke.

 _NO!_ They sounded gleeful.

The world exploded.

* * *

The rest of the inhabitants of the Tank watched as something about Arthur changed.

It wasn't anything physical, but an animalistic instinct informed them of something strange and foreign, and it made them all wary. It had barely been half a minute, but each second drew out for such a long time that it felt like an hour.

Feliciano was the first to notice. "Look!" he gasped. "A ribbon!"

It was times like these, Sadik decided, that no matter how sensitive all your other senses were, being blind was a pain in the ass.

"A ribbon…" Kiku repeated, bewildered, but unable to argue because it really _was_ a ribbon. A single green strand slithered out of Arthur's mouth, and another appeared beside it. Then another, and another, and they coiled and twisted to become a single braid of 'ribbons', which then proceeded to circle around one side of Arthur's head and peek out the other, growing in length as it slithered on. And it quite literally slithered, as it twirled and thinned into a little reptile that was almost completely a dark, forest green, save for the tip of its head which glowed crimson like a drop of blood. It regarded them curiously with glistening, beady black eyes, its forked tongue darting in and out of its mouth. It was about as thick as a thumb, as long as an arm, and it wasn't completely corporeal yet. But then Arthur opened his eyes, the green almost glowing with power, and he blew softly through his lips. The snake darted away from him, its tail nothing but wisps of mist, and it disappeared through the walls.

"What…?" Ludwig gawked.

"What?" Sadik demanded.

Arthur didn't say anything. He smiled gently, wearily, but it was a smile of contentment. He closed his eyes again, leaning against the metal walls, which, strangely enough, was no longer freezing, but comfortingly cool. There was nothing there now: even the embers were dying down. But the smoke remained, and it was choking, suffocating-

"Arthur?" Kiku inquired. "Are you alright?"

"No," he whispered, barely audible. There was literally _nothing left_. He had burned himself to nothingness.

He didn't even notice when a little eye-shut became oblivion, and he doubted he would notice when the oblivion becomes death.

* * *

 **Hi! So, this is a fairly strange chapter, and also relatively uneventful. Nevertheless, I wish you enjoyed it, thank you for reading, and PLEASE REVIEW!**


	23. Partings in Life

**Chapter Twenty Two**

Natalia was gone, chasing after a lie. But Tino wished that everyone else could leave as well. Their cacophony of voices, asking questions and demanding answers, were making his head spin, and nothing seemed to make sense. _Mathias is safe_ , he reassured himself. _Mathias and Lukas, they'll be fine._ Natalia was good, but she wasn't the best.

"Tino."

Only one voice registered, though it took a long time. He looked up slowly, and found Berwald staring down at him with his usual terrifying expression, except this time, Tino couldn't seem to find the fear inside himself to feel scared.

"Doctor."

The tall man squatted down to Tino's eye level and took his hand, gently tugging him to his feet. "Come w'th me."

The crowd parted to let them past, many eyes staring, but none daring to speak up. They headed towards Berwald's office, where everything was quiet and undisturbed by the chaos.

"Are you h'rt?" The doctor asked, a hint of concern in his deep voice.

Tino was slightly caught off guard by the question. "Erm, no. No, I'm fine. They didn't actually hurt me."

"How d'd th'y g't 'n?"

"F-From the clinic…" _Wow, good job,_ Tino congratulated himself. _Way to state the obvious._ The only way into the lab was through either of the two clinics stationed at the two different ends: one near Door 1, and another near Door 50. "I was at the desk," he hastily explained. "They came in with guns and threatened me, so I brought them in."

"Th'y kn'w," Berwald muttered. Then he shook his head slightly, talking to himself. "'f course th'y kn'w."

"Of course they know," Tino echoed.

At that moment, the door abruptly slammed open, and Natalia stormed in.

Tino blinked. "Natalia?"

"Doctor!" the assassin ignored him completely. She began to say something in Russian, too quickly for Tino – not a fluent Russian speaker – to understand, but Berwald raised a hand, signaling for her to stop.

"Tino," the doctor addressed him instead, "I'll see you tomorr'w."

Understanding that he was being dismissed, Tino nodded at Berwald, then Natalia, and left the room, leaving the two to their business, whatever it was. He doubted that Mathias and Lukas were dead, so now, he could only pray that no one has discovered the camera tape of his initial conversation with the two teenagers.

Though he didn't realize that by thinking that way, he might have jinxed himself.

* * *

The shadows were cool despite the blistering noon sun. Mathias and Lukas sat in the same alleyway that had camped out in the night before, Mathias examining the other blonde's leg.

"How is it?" Lukas asked. Mathias's expression was not comforting.

"Not good," was the reply. "You've got a bullet in your leg: it can't be good. With effort, you should be able to walk. Though I'd advise you not to. I'll wrap it up."

"Yes, please." Lukas sighed, leaning his head back against the wall.

For a while, the only sounds were Mathias's small grunts as he tore the lab coat that had followed them out into pieces and Lukas's quiet hisses of pain as the taller blonde wound the long strips of cloth tightly around his leg. "We'll need a doctor for this," Mathias noted.

But Lukas shook his head. "How are we going to explain it?"

"Some money should do the trick."

Lukas gave a small snort of amusement. Mathias knotted the strips one more time before settling down against the opposite wall, sighing softly. "Well, that was…"

"Eventful," Lukas supplied.

"Yeah." Mathias gave a small grin, and both of them relaxed against the alley walls, allowing a comfortable silence to take over for a moment. Then, Lukas shifted around a bit, and awkwardly pushed himself to his feet, most of his weight balanced on his good leg. Seeing this, Mathias hastily followed.

"So," he said, taking a deep breath, false cheer plastered all over his face, "What next?"

When Lukas didn't reply, his face fell, ever so slightly. "Hey-"

"Mathias." Lukas took a deep breath, drawing it out while the taller blonde waited. His voice was quiet when he spoke, monotone as always, but Mathias knew him too well. "Mathias, if it wasn't for you, I would never have gotten this far. So," he took inhaled one more time, chasing away the trembles that had begun to show up in his voice. "So thank you." And then he was nodding, more to himself than to Mathias, as if he was convincing himself that what he was doing was right. "Thank you," he repeated, and then he was gone.

It took several moments for the words to register in Mathias's mind, and when it did, he nearly panicked. Lukas was already at the end of the alley, moving surprisingly fast for someone with a leg injury, ready to turn out onto the streets when Mathias called out, running up to him. "W-Wait!" He caught up to him, grabbing his shoulder and pivoting himself around in front of Lukas, almost like he was purposely blocking his way. "Where are you going?"

"It's over, Mathias. We were too late. said Lukas, his expression contorting slightly as if he was in pain. "Emil's gone. I'm going home."

"How?" Mathias demanded.

"I'll find a way." Lukas limped past him, shrugging off his hand and continuing on his way. The streets were near empty, most people either at work, school, or just simply didn't want to endure the unbearably hot day.

"No, no, no…" Mathias murmured, his legs unwilling to move. "No, no, you can't!" The last two words were hurled desperately at the retreating back, but they were ignored. "Lukas, oh Lukas… Stop!"

The footsteps halted, if only for a moment, and Mathias felt the words gushing out of his mouth, afraid that this moment would be gone if he wanted for too long. "Please don't go away. Please. No one had stuck with me for so long before. No one had treated me like this: as if- as if I was _worth_ something. And if you leave… if you leave…" He shook his head, swallowing hard. "I-I remember things better when I'm with you. I do, really. See – B. Oxenstierna, 42- 42… no – I-It's there; I know it is! It's somewhere in there, and- and when I look at you, I can feel it! A-And I look at you, and I… I _belong_. It doesn't matter where, could be an alley for all I care, but when I look at you, w-when I'm with you, I-" His voice cracked, and it took effort to get the words out now; his voice was barely above a whisper. "So- please. I don't want that to go away. I don't want to forget. Not again." His heart was in pieces; his voice would no longer work. "Please," he repeated one more time, begging – begging for the memories that had vanished in the hungry, gobbling black hole in his mind that had haunted him for so long, too long.

But if he himself was the one who broke his heart, Lukas shattered it. "I'm sorry, Mathias." He spoke so quietly the other teenager almost didn't catch it. "But I want to. Perhaps forgetting would be best for all of us."

When Mathias had realized the meaning of his words, Lukas was no longer there.

And already, he could feel the memories fading.

* * *

All he could see was blood. Blood on the walls, blood on the bodies. Blood on him. Emil pressed a trembling hand against the wall, trying to steady himself when he emptied his stomach onto the blood splattered floor, his last meal coming out in an uncontrolled hurl. When he stopped retching, he forced himself to look up at his surroundings, where the slaughter had happened so quickly and suddenly that Emil found himself bathed in blood between one heartbeat and the next. All the guards were dead, obvious enough by their tore throats, and Peter was unconscious at best, probably from shock. It looked as if an invisible assassin had decided to stroll in with a pair of daggers and slit the throats of anyone who stood in its way.

Except Emil was still alive. And when he took a few steps forward, his bare feet casting ripples through the pool of red, he heard the hissing of a snake.

And indeed, there was a snake. It slithered out from beneath a still, cooling body, forked tongue darting. It was completely green, the color of dark pine leaves, with the exception of the tip of its head, which was a drop of bright crimson. It regarded him with beady, translucent black eyes, and when Emil stared back at it, frozen in fright, it opened its mouth, baring its fangs – still dripping with blood – and hissed viciously. The young boy jumped, his knees knocking together as he took one step back, away from the snake, and stayed there.

It hissed again, this time more annoyed than threatening, and gracefully glided through the blood towards the boy, wrapping its thin body around his ankle and tugging it forward, once.

Emil almost fainted. "W-What do y-you w-want?!" he stuttered, feeling ridiculous for talking to a snake.

But then the reptile turned its small head up to face him, loosening its grip around his ankle, opened its jaws wide, and coming from deep inside its thin, nimble body and far, far away, a voice, a deep, impatient, raspy, weary, dying, but _familiar_ voice snarled, _"Run, you idiot."_

So Emil did. And as he fled, trailing bloody footprints behind him, he wondered how many more times Arthur had to save him before he could come back to save Arthur and repay all the debts.

Though it turned out, that was the last time, and the debts were never paid.

* * *

Several hours were gone before he realized it. There was no one in the clinic other than him, and he was slowly, absentmindedly mopping the floor, getting ready to close up in an hour. His mind was blank save for an occasional wandering thought that always bring him to Mathias, which brings up a surge of memories so overwhelming that he would immediately shake his head and try not to remember, only for another straying idea to lead him down the same road again.

"Tino."

The scientist jumped, spinning around to find Natalia leaning against the frame of the 'Staff Only' door. She was still in her bloodstained gray dress pants and white shirt, but had abandoned the lab coat. One sleeve of her shirt was torn and caked with dried blood, though the bandage around her injury was as pale and clean as her skin. She was no longer wearing her hair band with the bow on it, rumor saying that she had burned it afterwards out of spite for Mathias. Natalia's expression was blank, but cold as always, and she looked at Tino as if she was looking at a corpse.

"Natalia," he greeted. "Is something wrong?"

She held up a hand, an USB flash-drive pinched between her fingers. "Doctor Oxenstierna told me to give this to you."

Tino abandoned his mop, leaning it against a wall, and took the hard disk from her, slotting it into the computer. The screen froze for a moment as the contents loaded, and when it did, a window automatically popped out. It was a video, a small clip extracted from a camera he had forgotten about, and the moment it began to play, Tino froze. His heart dropped to the ground as if it was filled with lead, and he found himself unable to speak or breathe as he listened to his own voice say:

 _"You're looking for Emil."_

 _The gun pointed at his chest barely wavered. "How do you know that?"_

 _"Emil told me," came the rushed, breathless reply. "I know where he is. I'll bring you to him."_

 _"You're not lying, are you?" The third figure, previously silent, spoke up. "You wouldn't want to be lying."_

 _He shook his head slightly. "No. Vladimir – Vladimir Popescu told me that you were coming. I mean, well, technically, he told Alfred, and Alfred told me. I-I've been waiting. I will not lie to you, I promise."_

 _"Where is my brother?" The person holding the gun_ – Lukas – _demanded as he lowered his weapon._

But there was another gun pointed at him now, and it felt so much more dangerous than the one Lukas had held.

 _"Downstairs."_

"What is the meaning of this?" Natalia hissed, digging the tip of her gun into the back of his head. "You betrayed us."

But Tino found himself immobilized as the video ended and replayed. Two guns were pointed at him: one at his chest, a phantom, nonexistent pressure, and another, this time real, much too real, at his head.

 _"Oxenstierna. Now."_

 _"You're looking for Emil."_

"Yes," he breathed a reply for the assassin behind him. "I did, didn't I?" He pressed the space button, pausing the clip just as video-Mathias began to speak.

"Why did you do it?"

This time, Tino answered immediately. "Because, Natalia, unlike you," he turned around slowly, his hands raised, so that the gun was pressing against his forehead now and he was staring Natalia in the eye, "I value my own life over the Organization's."

The assassin snarled. "If there wasn't something I need you to do, I would've killed you right here, as Doctor Oxenstierna commanded." Tino felt his heart sink even more, if that was even possible. _Berwald had demanded this?_ For some reasons, he felt more betrayed than he ever had before. That was, until Natalia's words registered.

"What do you mean you have something you need me to do?"

The first thing Natalia did was pull the trigger.

Tino reeled back, the back of his thighs bumping against the edge of the desk, but it was the camera – the same camera that had placed him in this predicament – that shattered, not his head.

"I'm not as stupid as you," she told him, her expression haughty and cold. "But yes, there is something." Tino waited as she took a deep breath. "I need you to find Mathias and tell him 'Yes, I am'."

"You are…?"

But the girl was shaking her head. "Just tell him, 'Yes, I am', and make sure he remembers it."

Tino nodded, still curious, but the questions all flew out of his head when Natalia raised her gun over her head, this time holding it by the barrel.

"Don't you dare forget, Väinämöinen."

"Wha-?"

The handle of the gun slammed into his temple and for a moment, he saw stars. But stars had never been a very strong source of light at night, and darkness was quick to take over.

He just wished Natalia doesn't leave him in a trash can.

* * *

 **Hello! I apologize, deeply, for such a late update. You give me so many heart-warming reviews, and I repay you with not only a late update, but also an unsatisfying chapter, so I'm extremely sorry. But in my defense, I realized recently that there were only a few chapters left in this story, and I haven't started planning Finding Mathias yet, so I kind of panicked. I'm still not done planning, which means the last few chapters of the story might also be slow, but after that, it'd be Finding Mathias, where most of the drama are! So, PLEASE REVIEW!**


	24. Watch the World Burn

**Chapter Twenty Three**

Lukas didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that the sun was setting, the streets were filling with people hurrying home, and he had no passport, phone, or anything that could get him out of Australia and back to Boston. Even though he had told Mathias that he'd find a way, he didn't actually know. He had gotten here illegally, but he had no way of contacting Alfred and- and the other guy. Was there another guy?

But it didn't matter, because either way, they couldn't help.

He continued down the street, limping slowly, the pain of a bullet in his leg catching up with him now that the adrenaline had receded. Finally, the injured muscles just couldn't support his weight anymore, and Lukas found himself stumbling, nearly falling over when a hand gripped him by the elbow and pulled him upright.

"Hey, are you okay?" the concerned voice was strangely accented, something that sounded British, American _and_ Australian, yet still very different from all three. Lukas kept most of his weight on his good leg and turned to thank the person when he was cut off by a quiet exclamation. "Goodness, you're _bleeding_!"

And that he was. His wound was bleeding through the makeshift bandages.

"It's nothing," Lukas mumbled, feeling strangely embarrassed. "I'm fine."

"But you're _bleeding_." The person talking was a young man not much older than Lukas, his bright green eyes narrowed but not accusing, his dark blonde hair curled at the two sides of his head like a ram's horns.

"I know. But I'll be fine," Lukas tried his best to sound reassuring. "It's just a small wound."

The person furrowed his brows, concerned. "But…"

"I'm _fine_ ," he persisted. He carefully let go of the person's arm, standing as straight and steady as he could and nodding in gratitude. "Thank you for helping." When he stumbled away, continuing to wander aimlessly on the streets, he could feel the stranger staring at his retreating form, and if he could, he would've started running to disappear more quickly. Some people were just too nosy for their own good.

But the horrible feeling of being watched was pushed to the back of his mind when something caught his eye. Was that the Sydney Opera House…?

* * *

At first, he thought it was snowing, but when the white gray flurry drifted onto his hand, into his hair, and didn't melt, wasn't cold, but instead _hot_ and burning, Arthur realized that it was ashes. Something was burning somewhere, and the smoke had covered the sky in a veil of smoke. Arthur briefly wondered when was the last time he had seen the sky, but found himself unable to remember.

Maybe the sky had always been gray. Maybe nothing was burning, and the ash was only dust.

Or maybe he was the one who was burning.

It was moments like these when Arthur found himself unable to do anything but laugh as he finally remembered. The flickering candles, the warm hearth. The explosion that rocked the world, incinerating everything around him, before suddenly being sucked away as if facing a black hole, and out of the darkness, he had heard the hiss of a serpent.

Years ago, he promised himself that he would never lay a hand on a child. Children are hope and innocence, and he would never forgive himself if he killed one. Peter, however cruel, sadistic, or twisted he may be, was still a child. So Arthur pleaded with the last of his strength for the serpent twisting through the darkness to spare the child. He did not deserve to die.

But then the world was washed gray, and the ashes seemed to be from his own burning body, and Arthur couldn't stop laughing

"What, exactly, is so funny, Arthur?"

The voice, however faint or unreal it seemed, came as a shock, but it didn't stop his chuckles. In fact, it made him laugh harder.

"Laila," he gasped. "Oh, goodness heavens, Laila." He shook his head, suppressing his amusement. "You always come at the strangest times."

It was her turn to laugh then, a breathy chuckle that was more show than sound, and Arthur wondered why neither of her sons had inherited her beautiful personality. Her pale blonde hair, falling to her slim waist in waves, was swept over one shoulder, only a shade darker than her younger child's. She wore the same nightgown she had on the night of her death. The night Arthur had murdered her, tearing out her throat onto the light gray blankets.

"You're such a bright, cheerful person," Laila commented almost sarcastically, glancing around her. Flakes of ash caught in her hair, but she didn't care. She never did. "You've grown," she continued, her voice as lilting and alluring as he remembered. "Last time I saw you, you were still a knobby-kneed teenager with a temper and morals too big for your body. But you've grown into it. It's been that long hasn't it?"

"Yes," Arthur agreed, however uncomfortable he was thinking back to his awkward teenage years. "Too long."

Laila's expression softened. "Not much longer, though. Thank you."

"There's nothing to thank me for." He turned away from her, his chest tightening. "I did what I was obligated to do."

"Stubborn as a mule." Her voice was soft, but it was also clearer now, more solid. _Time was up._ "You wouldn't know a good deed you've accomplished if it danced in front of you naked."

"That's not true." He could feel her moving forward, her footsteps silent, cushioned by the thin carpet of ash. "It's simply because the bad deeds are also dancing around me naked, and there are so much more of them."

When she took his hand, he found it comfortingly warm, and when he was pulled into her tight embrace, he felt like a frightened, confused child again, who didn't want to die but didn't know how to live either.

Except this time, Laila was not going to teach him how to live; she was going to teach him how to die.

"Will I see the sky again?" he asked her, his voice barely above a murmur. His eyelids suddenly felt very heavy, drowsiness weighing them down.

Laila's voice was a warm breath tickling his ear. "The sky, the sun, the moon, the stars. They're all there. You'll see them all again."

"What is it like?"

She understood his question. "It's peaceful," the answer came softly. "No worries, no pain. You wait: like an old book on a dusty shelf, waiting for someone to pick you up. You exist as a memory, and perhaps, one day, someone would be reminded and read you again; or perhaps, a new story will be written."

And when Arthur Kirkland breathed his final breath, his lips were graced with a small, genuine smile as the Underworld finally set him free.

* * *

It _burned_. The sun was still setting, night has yet to fallen, and the moment Emil stepped out of the dentist's clinic, his breathing ragged after running though the halls and up the flights of stairs, he found himself burning. It hurt so much it itched, and Emil stumbled blindly through the pain into the nearest alleyway, where the buildings shielded him from the sunlight. A week of being underground, he realized bitterly, yearning for the sun that suddenly rejected him. Maybe this was the downside of his abilities, and his crippled arm was merely an accident that had happened while he was unconscious. It took a moment for the burning feeling to fade, and even after his breathing had calmed down, his skin felt raw and vulnerable.

But his head was clear again, and that's when he noticed that he wasn't alone in the alley.

Half obscured by the shadows at the end of the alley, a person was crouching against the wall, a discarded backpack next to him as he rocked back and forth on his heels, his face buried in his hands as he – seemed to – sob. The person was so trapped in his own misery that he didn't even notice when Emil slowly approached him, curious and cautious.

"Oh…" the person gasped. "Oh no, oh no…" He sniffled, shaking his head. "B… 42 – no 46, no…"

"Um…" Emil swallowed. "Excuse me, but are you alright?"

The person jumped slightly, and looked up. He was a boy only slightly older than Emil, maybe around the same age as Lukas. His clothes – black, baggy sweatpants and the ugliest sweatshirt Emil had ever seen, with a gigantic bucktoothed beaver on the front – were grimy and torn, his hair was in a disastrous state, and his nose and cheeks were flushed from crying. He blinked at Emil with red-rimmed eyes, looking momentarily confused, before he remembered that he was asked a question. "I-" Then he shook his head and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. "I don't know…" His voice cracked. "I don't know where I am, I think I'm lost. I- I think I lost someone, but I don't remember…"

Emil crouched down beside him, awkwardly patting his shoulder, feeling useless, regretting ever approaching him. He shouldn't be wasting time like this; he was supposed to be looking for Lukas, for heaven's sake! Then suddenly, an idea struck him. "Hey," he spoke, mildly surprised by his own brilliance, "it's okay, I'm looking for someone too, you know. Do you want to look together?" Because the more the merrier, right?

The person's head snapped up, and when he stared at Emil for a long moment, his eyes wide, the younger boy was almost afraid that he was going to refuse. But then a smile stretched across the person's lips, and he pounced suddenly, pulling Emil into a tight, suffocating bear hug that reminded him too much of Feliciano. "Thank you, thank you so much!" the person exclaimed. He released Emil, but kept a tight hold on his hands. "I'm Mathias," he offered, beaming.

"Nice to meet you, Mathias," the younger boy replied with a smile of his own, albeit a very forced one. He stood up, pulling out of Mathias's grasp, and brushed himself off. He eyed the dark red sun, sinking over the horizon, the shadows growing longer and darker. The heat was beginning to fade as well, so he reckoned that he should be relatively fine if they begin their search around now. "My name is Emil. Shall we get going?"

"Emil?" Mathias seemed to perk up a bit, his blue eyes brightening as he stood, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. His cheerful, naïve grin widened. "That's a nice name." But then he stopped, brows furrowing slightly. "Hey, you're covered in blood."

And Mathias didn't seem affected by that at all. Emil sighed, wondering who exactly he had gotten himself tangled up with. "Yes, I am."

The taller boy swung his backpack around, zipping it open. "I think I have a spare shirt or something inside. Do you want it? It'll help, I'm sure."

"Sure." But only as long as the shirt wasn't as hideous as Mathias's…

It wasn't, but Emil thought he would've appreciated it a bit more if he was a five year old girl, considering that the jacket Mathias pulled out was _bright pink_. Hello Kitty patterns were printed onto the rosy background, and Emil couldn't help wondering why Mathias would have something like it.

It was slightly better when Emil flipped it inside out and wore it that way, and it fit him perfectly fine, so as long as people don't notice the dark splatter stains on his white lab pants, he should be fine walking down the street.

"I'm looking for my brother," Emil explained as they swerved out onto the street, joining the streams of people emerging from buildings and workplaces, heading home. "His name is Lukas. Pale hair, blue eyes, slightly shorter than you. We should ask around a little bit to see if-"

"LUKAS!" Emil jumped, spinning round to look at the other blonde as he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted again, "LUKAS!"

"What are you doing?" the younger boy hissed, flushing when people around them shot them strange looks.

"We're looking for my brother, aren't we?" was the reply.

" _My_ brother," Emil corrected. "And can't you-"

"LUUUKAASSSS!"

"-do it in a more inconspicuous way?" Though that certainly was one way of doing things…

Sighing in resignation, Emil approached the nearest person – a dark haired man with a band-aid stuck across the bridge of his nose, chilling at the front of a bakery, watching the people pass by. "Excuse me, sir? Have you seen a teenage boy pass by? He's pale, with blonde hair, blue eyes, about your height? He has a cross-shaped clip over here as well…"

The person frowned thoughtfully, scratching the back of his head and answered with a prominent Australian accent. "Sorry, mate. I've just gotten here, so I don't think I'd have caught him…"

"Right," Emil nodded awkwardly. "Thanks, anyway."

"G'luck."

The young boy hurried back to Mathias, who was still shouting at the top of his lungs. "Mathias," he had to poke his shoulder several times to get the older teenager's attention. "Mathias, stop it."

After one last shout, Mathias finally quieted down, and he looked down with an enthusiastic grin. "What is it, Emmy?"

" _Don't_ call me Emmy." Emil had flushed slightly at the nickname. "And where are we anyways? Do you know?"

"Uh…" Mathias's face scrunched up as he tried to remember. "Australia, I think."

" _Australia-?!_ " How did he even get here?

"Yup." Emil's shock was undetected by Mathias. "Sydney, probably." His wandering blue eyes caught a sign by the road. "Yeah, look! Wallaby Street, Syd…ney…"

Remembering was a heart-wrenching feeling of rightness that Mathias hadn't experienced for too long. Memories were sweet, no matter how bitter it may seem at the time, and having them fill your senses: images flashing past your eyes, words echoing next to your ears, emotions bubbling back to surface as you suddenly _see_ , were something Mathias experienced only once, but fell in love with. For one moment, it was as if he had broken up from the surface of the sea, drawing into his lungs sweet, fresh air after being held under for too long; as if he had been blindfolded, but the veil was lifted so light finally reached the dark, dank corners of his mind, and he grasped the memories like they were the most precious things in the world. It took his breath away as everything came rushing back.

 _"He took my brother. I couldn't do anything."_

 _"B. Oxenstierna, 42 Wallaby Street, Sydney."_

 _"I promised to protect him, but I couldn't."_

 _"How could you_ do _that?!"_

 _"I forgive you… Thank you for saving me."_

 ** _"EMIL!"_**

"EMIL!"

"What?" Emil blinked bewilderedly, not understanding what had happened in the few seconds Mathias had blanked out. He took several nervous steps back from the loud teenager before he was caught in the second suffocating hug Mathias had given him. Mathias ignored the curious glances of the passing crowds while Emil flushed, hugging the younger boy to his heart's content before pulling away, keeping his hands on the boy's narrow shoulders and shaking him uncontrollably, the boy's concealed but crippled arm swinging lifelessly on his side.

"EMIL! It's you, Emil!"

"Yes, yes, I'm Emil," he cried. "Stop shaking me!"

"You're Emil! But you were dead. We saw you. But you're here! You're not dead! And you're brother-" He broke off with a dramatic gasp, releasing the boy to slap his own thighs in mock anger. "You're brother!"

"You know my brother." Emil had never been so confused in his life. He didn't remember meeting Mathias, but-

"Hey, you there!" a vaguely familiar voice called. "Little boy!" Emil spun around to find the same Australian man from before, pushing his way through the crowd towards them and waving desperately, trying to catch their attention. Trailing behind him was shorter man, looking both amused and worried. His expression of concern deepened when he caught sight of Emil, bright green eyes narrowing as he clutched a stuffed lamb closer to his chest.

"Are you the one searching for a boy with the cross hairclip?" The stranger asked the moment he could be heard over the chatter of a hundred different voices on a busy street that had been murmuring sleepily only half an hour ago.

"Lukas?" Emil identified, violet eyes widening. "You've seen Lukas?"

"So they _are_ the same guy!" the person with the band-aid on his nose crowed. "I knew it the moment you mentioned the hair-clip, Kaelin, I knew something was up."

"Yes, Oz, I'm very proud of you," the man with the stuffed animal and weird hairstyle shaped like a ram's horns – Kaelin – waved dismissively, turning back to Emil. "He's your brother?"

Emil nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes he is. Where was the last place you've seen him?"

"Not far away." Kaelin pointed in the direction opposite of which they had been heading. "He was heading towards the Sydney Opera House, I believe."

"You mean the big white seashells?" Mathias frowned.

Oz chuckled. "That's one way of describing it."

"Better hurry," Kaelin continued to ignore his companion. "You wouldn't want to miss him." Then he paused, and his thick blonde brows furrowed. "But he was limping, so…"

"Limping?"

"His leg seemed injured." The young man clarified, hugging his stuffed animal tight. "It looked pretty bad too. It was bleeding."

"Oh no!" Mathias gasped suddenly, blue eyes widening in slight fear. "I remember now! We have to hurry!" And then he turned towards the direction Kaelin had been pointing and began struggling through the throngs of people.

"Wait, Mathias- Thank you!" called Emil hurriedly over his shoulder before he went to catch up with the taller boy. Both fear and excitement were pulsing through his veins, his heartbeat quickening. Lukas was injured, but they knew where he was. They were going to find him.

"Good luck!" The two helpful strangers waved as the two boys sped off in the direction of the Sydney Opera House.

It was holiday time, so despite the rapidly fading day, the majestic architecture was still swarmed with tourists.

But Lukas was here. Emil could _feel_ it. He was here somewhere, hidden by people who-

"LUUKAAS!" And Mathias was at it again, except this time, Emil took a deep breath, and shamelessly began to holler with him. They slowly made their way around the Opera House, calling tirelessly, ignoring the staring people, but never received a reply.

The sun had set now, stores were closing, lights were lit, and still no Lukas. But he was here somewhere; Emil was so sure of it, even though his heart sank deeper every time he shouted his name and heard no answering call.

"Lukas!" he called again, his breath scratching against his raw throat. "Where are you? Lukas!"

"LUKAS!" added Mathias.

"Emil?"

The two boys jumped, and spun around simultaneously to find a shocked face staring at the two of them, wide, dark blue orbs shifting from one blonde to another.

Mathias was first to react. "Lukas!" He cried, relieved, but quieted, noticing the atmosphere for once when he saw Lukas staring at his younger brother as if he was seeing a ghost and a miracle at the same time. "Lukas?" he repeated, quieter this time. He was ignored by both brothers.

Emil couldn't help but notice that Lukas's fingers were trembling as he reached out and touched his shoulder, then quickly extracted his hand again. "Emil?" his voice was barely audible, faint and distant and disbelieving. "Is it really you?"

He was expecting a response, but when Emil opened his mouth, he found himself saying, "Decided to go sightseeing now that your worries were gone?"

He received a shrug in return. "I had to take advantage of this chance. I didn't even need to pay for a plane ticket."

Emil frowned. "We were calling around here for ten minutes at least. Why didn't you answer us?"

The older sibling chuckled drily, turning away and running a hand through his unruly hair. "I couldn't believe at first," he admitted. "I thought I was hallucinating, going crazy at last, because I thought- I thought you were dead."

"But I'm not."

"I know." The silence that stretched out afterwards was thick and suffocating, until Lukas decided to add with a wry smile, "But are you really sure about that?"

Fine, two could play the game. "No, in fact, I'm not sure at all." Emil took a deep breath, feeling the weightlessness of air filling his body, then concentrating, and he reached out with one semi-transparent hand to grab Lukas's, only for it to pass through. His brother's resulting expression was priceless, and it became difficult to suppress his grin.

"Ooh!" Mathias was the only one who laughed, though Emil was quick to join. "He's gotcha, Lukas! He's got you _bad_!"

Lukas nearly choked, and his voice was a strangled whisper. "But… how?"

And despite the hilariousness of the situation, Emil found his grin weakening, then fading as he remembered the days trapped underground with cold corners and white lights, a death sentence a clock ticking over his head, and his voice was just as soft as he said, "Let me tell you about it."

* * *

 **A month.**

 **It's been nearly a month.**

 **I'm not even finished with Finding Mathias planning! What have I been doing?! Only two chapters and an Epilogue to go now, and I'm barely halfway through the FM planning. How pathetic.**

 **But a few things before we end here however:**

 **-This is where the story seriously steers off of the movie plot. There'd be basically nothing similar anymore.**

 **-I don't like OCs. I actually really don't. I love killing characters, but not creating characters. Usually, any OCs in my story would be faceless, nameless, and either disappears or dies off in the same chapter or the next. Laila, however, is a different case. I don't think she'd actually show up too much, considering that she's dead, but she's still a relatively important character, and will pop up from time to time. Either way, bear with her for a bit, if you don't mind.**

 **Anyways, thank you reading. I doubt another chapter would pop up too soon, since there's FM for me to worry about, but please review! Thank you!**


	25. Let the Stars Die

**Chapter Twenty Four**

"Hey, it's okay now. There's no need to cry, Feli." Kiku awkwardly patted the brunet's shoulder as it shook with gasping sobs. But instead of being comforted, Feliciano uttered a small wail and buried his face in his hands.

"Dead," his voice was barely audible with his hands pressed against his face. "Another one, dead."

"Feliciano…" Ludwig sighed, but it seemed like nothing could stop the Italian from mourning.

"Dead," he repeated. "Arthur is dead, and we couldn't even do anything. We've never been able to do anything and it's not fair!" They let him rant to himself, the others not knowing what to say. The Tank felt even emptier now that another one of them was gone for good. Sadik and Feliks squatted in a corner away from the trio of friends, one staring at the white tiled ground and another with his eyes closed behind his mask and hands clapped over sensitive ears to attempt to block out the sobs of frustration and grief.

But Sadik had spent enough time around the mentally unstable blonde to recognize a numb silence from a contemplative one. And the only reason Feliks would be silent without a thought in his head was if he believed that there was nothing to think about.

So the blind man said to the boy who could foresee the deaths of everyone, "You knew for a long, long time." It was not a question.

It took a few moments for Feliks to answer. "Yes. Everything became so clear when Emil came into the Tank and Arthur was determined to use him to escape."

"And he did. They both did. Just in different ways."

"I don't know which way is better." Feliks leaned back against the cold walls with a sigh, glaring up at the white ceiling and pale lights. His tone was grave even as he asked a ghost, "What do you think, Liet?"

But it was Sadik who answered. "Toris would probably want you to go the opposite way from his, and Lovino's, and Arthur's. It's not a pretty path. None of them went easily."

"But I don't know if I want to go the other way, away from them." Feliks closed his eyes, his voice quiet. "I think… I think if I go down that road, it's just going to, like, lead me back to where I was before, or, like, where I am now, and Sadik, don't you think that'd totally be the worst thing that could ever happen? After all, the Underworld is like a labyrinth, and I doubt we'd, like, ever be able to escape it. 'Once you're in, you can't get out.' Isn't that what they all like to say?" He cracked open one lazy, emerald-green eye to shoot the brown-skinned man a challenging look before relaxing and closing his eyes again. "But, like, I think… Don't you think that… if, like, we die here, in the lowest level of hell, the only way we could go now would be, like, up?" He reached blindly with one thin, sickly pale hand towards – not the ceiling, but the faraway skies beyond it.

 _"Up, towards paradise."_

* * *

Tino did not wake up in a trashcan, much to his relief. He did wake up _next to_ a trashcan, however, which was better, though not by much. His head throbbed, but it wasn't horrible, until he reached up to examine his skull and a finger poked something that sent pain spiking through his senses and washing his vision with black and red dots. He might've fainted again if his phone didn't start buzzing in his front pocket, and more by instinct and habit than sense, Tino pressed the answer button despite the caller being an unknown number and lifting the phone to his ear with a lead-filled arm to hear-

"-14 times, Tino! I've called you _14 times_! What do you think you're doing, huh? According to a creepy, anonymous caller, this is _urgent_! And I don't know what you've been doing – sleeping or something, because I've called you _14 times_! You better explain yourself well, young man, or else-"

All the shouting was fueling Tino's growing headache, and he groaned quietly, leaning back against the alley wall, still hidden from the outside world by an overflowing trashcan. "… _Äiti_ …?" Except he didn't have a mother…

There was a dramatic sigh from the opposite side of the line, and what he finally was able to identify as Vladimir Popescu's voice said, "As much as I appreciate you calling out my secret, maternal side – _not_ – but I'm actually serious. This woman I don't know called me around half an hour ago and told me I had to contact you. When you didn't pick up I thought you died! What happened, Tino?"

 _A woman…?_ And then suddenly, the memories slammed into him like a truck. Berwald. Natalia. Emil and Mathias and Lukas.

"Popescu!" Tino shot to his feet, but swayed and had to use the wall for support when his head protested and the world flipped several times. The words did not stop flowing from his mouth. "We need back up. Now."

"Back up?" Vladimiar was both puzzled and perplexed. "There is no back up, not anymore. If we had any allies, China crushed them nearly three years ago."

"I know that," Tino snapped back, unusually irritated. "I was there! But it doesn't matter, we need back up. For heaven's sake, there's got to be _somebody_! Alfred F Jones! Use him to get them here to Australia. You're a trader, for heaven's sake! Use your contacts!"

Tino could almost hear Vladimir wince. "Well… I could contact Antonio and his friends, but I kind of already owe him one…"

"Then it's on me." Tino gave himself a quick check-over and found himself relatively presentable. He discarded his white lab coat into the trashcan and swerved out onto the street, easily merging into the crowd of businesspeople heading home with his formal clothes and brisk appearance and stride.

"Fine, fine." There was a short pause as Vladimir drew in a deep, nervous breath and blew out slowly. "Care to explain, Tino? Is another civil war breaking out?"

The former scientist contemplated the possibility for a moment. "No. Not yet, at least." A strangely sinister smile stretched over his lips. "But perhaps, very, very soon."

Because it seemed like in the end, no matter what happens between then and now, a killer will always return to the slaughter field.

* * *

The Sydney Opera House was truly a sight to behold. By day, the structure was pearly white, gleaming majestically in the sunlight. When night arrives, lights situated all around the architecture paints color over the white surface, keeping it aglow. Even during the awkward period of time trapped between day and night, when it was too bright to turn on the lights but too dark for the building to be able to show off its complete glory, the white and pale beige tiles pieced together to form the opera house's outer shell managed to catch the faintest bits of light from the blood red sun and ocean blue sky to create a completely different, yet still beautiful, view.

Regretfully enough, those were not the thoughts that ran through Lukas's head as he gazed at the architectural wonder in front of him, absent-mindedly listening to his brother repeat, "I promised them, Lukas. I promised to free them."

And Mathias just had to add solemnly, "A man should never go back on his word."

But it wasn't about honor! It's the danger, and the memories, and the pain cut from watching blood spill and waiting for miracles that never arrived. "I can't let you go back there," said Lukas softly. "Not after everything they've done to you."

" _Because_ of everything they did to me, I have every right to go," Emil corrected. "The people in the Tank helped me. They helped _me_ , not you, not Mathias. _Me_. Lukas, I have to go."

"It's not safe-"

"Nothing is safe anymore! And I doubt anything _will_ be after all this! You're injured, I'm not; I have abilities you don't have. If there's a person who's not going, it's _you_."

Lukas's jaw clenched, his dark blue eyes remaining stubbornly fixed on the Sydney Opera House not far from them. When he spoke, it was more of a whispered breath than actual words. "A long time ago, I promised to protect you. I promised to keep you safe. I watched my parents choke to death on their own blood." _My_ parents: not ours, because Emil did not remember enough for them to feel like his as well and Lukas was not in the mood to share. "I watched the killer threaten to take you too, and never. I will never let that happen again." And finally he looked back at his younger brother, those blue orbs impossibly blank and carefully concealed and wiped of any emotion. Emil thought that his brother suddenly seemed like a stranger, and it frightened him, especially when Lukas stumbled backwards onto a bench and closed his eyes because he was in pain but didn't want to show it. "Except it is too late now, isn't it?"

"It is." But the pain might finally convince Lukas to let him help his friends and pay back all the debts he had made in the short time he was in the lab. A heavy hand patted him gently on the shoulder, and Emil looked up to see Mathias giving him a silent nod. The tall blonde sat down next to Lukas and wrapped an arm around his shoulders – so narrow and bony compared to Mathias's muscular bulk.

"Even if you don't go," he was murmuring quietly to his friend's ear, "I will go with him. I believe I also have a pact to fulfill."

"I'm surprised you even remember." Lukas was desperately trying to sound lighthearted, but his inner conflict cracked through. He opened his eyes, staring up at the darkening sky. "Fine." Emil's heart leapt, out of joy or nervousness, he wasn't sure. "But I'm coming."

"Of course you are." Mathias chuckled.

Lukas shot a glance at Emil and gestured at him to come and sit down next to the two older boys. "And I think… if we are going to invade the Underworld – _again_ – we should have a plan. A good one this time. No more barging in with no idea where we are or what we're doing except for a faraway, indefinite goal. We need supplies, and we need allies. I want an outline before we go badass." And it sounded so unlike Lukas that Emil almost laughed, except a timid yet familiar voice piped up cautiously behind them.

"If you want a plan… we may or may not have one."

* * *

"Say, Oz…" The brown haired man turned when he heard his name quietly called by his cousin, who was still and tense with a faraway look in his eyes. Oscar himself wasn't exactly relaxed either – he couldn't stop fidgeting and staring at the clock at the corner of the café they were sitting in – but their minds are obviously on different things. "About that boy…"

Oscar, groaned a little, but it wasn't annoyed, more nervous and tired. "Again? This is the third time you've mentioned him."

"I know, I know." Kaelin swallowed, stroking his stuffed sheep. "But it's about his brother. I met him-"

"On the streets, yes, you told me already."

"He stumbled into me-"

"I know, you told me already."

"The point is," Kaelin huffed, annoyed by the interruptions, "he was injured. On the leg."

"So?"

Now, his voice quieted to barely above a whisper as he told Oscar, "If I didn't know better, I would have thought that he had been shot."

Oscar's eyes swiveled around to stare at Kaelin, finally giving him his full attention. His strong Australian accent became more prominent – if that was even possible – as he lowered his voice to match Kaelin's. "But… you know better…?"

"His leg was bandaged," Kaelin described, "But it was only one strip, wrapped twice around a single area, which meant the wound was small. But judging by the amount of blood, it was deep. If he's still able to move his leg and just barely walk, that meant his tendon is fine, but the muscle is damaged. So either somebody had stabbed him on the leg, or somebody shot him."

"Gangs?" offered Oscar weakly, and Kaelin shrugged.

"Despite what we do for money, I don't think I've ever faced a gang before, so I guess that's one possibility. Wonder why they didn't knock him out after injuring him though; he had no head injury, although his hand also seems to be injured: it was wrapped as well. If it was a gang, why did they let him escape, even allowing him to stop and wrap up his injuries?" He shrugged again. "I don't know." Despite Kaelin's neutral tone and body posture, it was obvious that he disagreed, and Oscar knew it.

"Fine," was all he said before glancing back up at the clock and tensing because that discussion was only a distraction and they had more urgent businesses at hand. "Six thirty," he told his companion, and both of them paled. Kaelin's hands were visibly trembling as he picked up his cup of coffee and sipped with tight lips; Oscar scratched his nose, nearly peeling off the decorative bandage stuck across its bridge, and he took a deep breath, muttering to himself. "Stay calm, act natural. It's just another meeting with another person. You have the upper hand. There's no need to panic."

Except they did _not_ have the upper hand, even though she came in alone and nearly unprepared.

Oscar and Kaelin felt as if the temperature inside the café dropped several degrees when she pushed open the door and slipped in casually. She was dressed like any other businesswoman let out from a long day of work: her black suit and white blouse were immaculate, her brown curls slicked back into a casual yet elegant bun. Her steps were filled with a steady confidence, accompanied by an ominous clicking of her heels, and her smile was gentle, if not warm as she surveyed the room.

And saw them.

Her green eyes glinted cruelly as she zeroed in on the two nervous men; she slung her Gucci handbag over the back of her chair and quietly sat down. Her proud posture demanded respect and fear, and their little corner remained tensely silent as she pulled out her cell phone and gently, quietly, placed it onto the wooden surface of the table. She did not order anything, instead staring at Oscar and Kaelin as if they were her next meal, and she was simply playing with them. She crossed her long, thin fingers, forming a little net where she rested her chin, her red painted lips widening into a playful smirk.

"Hello, gentlemen," Magyar purred. "Let's talk business."

* * *

 **Hi! It's somehow already April! Somebody's birthday in my community is in April, but I don't remember the exact date and who. Either way, Happy Birthday! 誕生日おめてとう！Bonne anniversaire! (I'm pretty sure it's one of you, anajadenx and shadowell, so you should be able to understand at least one, right?)**

 **Either way, I'd say I'm 40-60% done with the planning of Finding Mathias, but the story is getting seriously complicated and I've been confused for the past two weeks, trying to untangle the mess.**

 **This is a filler chapter that was surprisingly difficult to write, but I'm quite happy with the way it turned out. Some details are quite crucial too, as you'll find out in Finding Mathias. But thank you for sticking with this story, thank you for reading, and please review!**


	26. Hear the Beasts Roar

**Chapter Twenty Five**

 _"How?"_

"I think the better question here, dear brother, would be ' _Why?'_ "

"No." Emil shook his head. "I meant, _'How?'_ as in 'How could you have received help from people like _them_?'"

Lukas thought for a moment. "I still think _'Why?'_ would've been a better question; as in, 'Why did God curse me with not just an encounter with _them_ , but also a reunion?' I honestly thought I was never going to see _them_ again, and I was content with that, but-"

 _"Buono tomato, buono tomato, buono, buono OOH! Tomato!"_

"-seems like I was wrong."

"Hey, Lukas!" a very possibly drunk Mathias beckoned at him with a nearly-empty bottle of beer in his hand. "Come join us!"

"You're underage," was the icy rejection.

"Oh, come on!" Gilbert was not helping in the least, his boisterous voice slurred from alcohol and his cackling laugh interrupted by hiccups. "Stop being such a party-pooper, Lukas. The whole point of being underage is to drink!"

Alfred whooped, slinging an arm around Mathias's shoulder as the two continued their drunk duet. _"…The Mediterranean Sea, too! O sole mio!"_

 _"Oh my God…"_ And Lukas was _not_ impressed. He could feel a migraine building behind his eyes the longer he spent in the awful singing and insane laughter.

A weak chuckle sounded behind the two brothers, and Lukas felt Tino gently pat his shoulder. "You'll get used to it," he reassured.

"And I dread the day I do."

"It'd mean that you've practically become one of them." At least Emil understood. "But Tino… What are they doing here? I mean, I know that we're planning to save the prisoners and destroy the lab here in Australia, but I doubt we'll be getting anything with them like… this." He gestured at the men dancing and singing in the spacious hotel room, flourishing the bottles of beer Alfred and Matthew had transported along with the BTT and half of Vladimir's stock of weapons.

Tino's smile slipped away, his expression blanking as he looked away, eyes uncertain. "Give them two days, Emil. The first day is for rejoicing: the gathering of the army, the preparation of pride; the second day is for forgetting: the possibility of death, the failure, the lost, and everything that will change when we set out for war the next day. Between the two days will be when we plot." He suddenly forced cheer back into his voice. "Well, that was what we did before, of course. I guess they just wanted to stick to tradition. After all," now his tone was almost bitter, "things are barely different now than from three years ago."

Emil blinked, and the two brothers exchanged a look, but then shrugged. What specifically had happened three years ago did not affect their current situation.

Though later, Lukas thought that he should've asked.

* * *

Four days passed between the first day and second. 'The day for forgetting', Tino had called it – more like 'the fling before the battle', Lukas thought – and this time, the former scientist joined in the drinking.

Emil was asleep, but Lukas could hear the others laughing in the adjacent room, the music booming, and he found himself staring at the maps and notes strewn over the desks and couches.

"Lukas?" Their neighbors were too loud.

"Go back to sleep, Emil."

"Not until you do too." Fine, that was fair. But then- "You don't have to go, you know." Lukas spun around and found Emil with his knees drawn up to his chest, one small hand running up and down his mutilated arm. "I know you hate this. You can stay here; we'll get in, get out, and you can wait for us outside. Mathias is there, and so is Gilbert, and all the others will be backing us up. You don't need to worry."

Lukas was silent for a long time as he gathered the papers and stacked them into a messy pile. He was staring at the top sheet – a map of the lab – when he finally said, "I've always wondered why our grandparents didn't take us in. We used to live in Norway, and I met them there, once. They were waiting in the hospital before you were born, and still waiting when mother woke up and was holding you in her arms. Then they were arguing, and a few months later, we moved to America. I never saw them again, but when our parents were killed two years later, I knew that they were still alive, yet they didn't take us in, even though they were our only family left."

Emil didn't understand why Lukas was suddenly telling him this, but he didn't protest. This was the first time his brother had told him anything from the past, and he was going to soak it in while he could. "What about now?" he asked, just to keep him talking.

"Now?" Lukas picked up the map and examined it. "They're dead as well. We saw it on the news in the orphanage, but I don't think you remember. Six years ago, they were killed in a terrorist bombing in a hotel in Rome. Our grandfather was a millionaire, you know. But when he died, we didn't get anything."

"Somebody took it?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I think he invested all his money into his company, but not long after he died, the company collapsed and disappeared."

"So that's why-"

He was cut off. "Six years ago, not long after the bombing, a company called UDW began to thrive, leeching off of other businesses, headquarters popping up everywhere."

Emil stared at the older boy for a moment and then flopped back onto the bed, bouncing once before settling, his crippled arm flung over his eyes. Silence took over as the two brothers listened to the laughter from the people in the other room – killers and sinners and beasts donning human skins – and wondered if they were actually weeping.

* * *

The final day was dedicated to hangovers and reviewing the planning, but then dusk began to fade.

And the game was on.

Lukas could feel two guns tucked on his belt, hidden by his black hoodie. There were two knives in his sleeves, one more in his boots, and several harmless flash grenades hidden in his pockets. Mathias, Gilbert, and Tino (who was coming only because he was most familiar with the lab and he had thrown a tantrum when they suggested he stayed put) were just as well equipped, perhaps even more, while Emil was only handed a gun. Everything else had been thrown back into the box of weapons by Lukas.

"That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair, little brother."

"But I only have one."

"And that's one too many."

But it was Emil who had to go first, vanishing on his seat in the small truck, squeezing through the walls and doors.

"Cameras are disabled," announced Francis cheerfully from the back, where he continued to tap away on the computer. Antonio, sitting in the driver's seat, flashed a thumbs-up to the invisible boy, and moments later, the previously locked clinic doors clicked, a little boy pulling the double glass doors open while four young men casually strolled in.

Alfred sniggered from his seat in the truck, sharing a glance with Matthew. "Those Underworld nerds wouldn't know what hit them."

But they did.

The moment the 'Staff Only' door swung shut behind them, stranding them atop four long flights of dimly lit staircases, the atmosphere changed. Suddenly, silence was crucial, and any weapons were automatically within reach.

Emil had gone ahead, much to the displeasure of Lukas, and Gilbert was the first to head down, quick and light as a ghost, Tino not far after him. Mathias drew in last, after Lukas was halfway down the first flight of stairs, his footing feeling clumsy and loud compared to the others.

The first blood was spilled right outside the door leading into the white hallways of the lab, and Lukas tried to ignore the warm corpse slumped against the wall – limbs splayed halfway across the hallway, an ugly slash underneath his jaw splitting his throat open – and the blood that stained his boots and left crimson footprints across the marble floors.

The first room was marked '50', and Tino swore quietly under his breath. "They upgraded the security around the prisoners; we'll have to go the long way."

Gilbert swerved once into a hallway and was met by a dead end. "Crap, already lost. Tino, the head is yours."

"Follow the numbers," Tino instructed. "We'll have to split up later. Emil is heading towards the prisoners to inform them of the situation; Francis should be dealing with their restraints. I will find the doctor, while the rest of you make sure the path is clear for everyone to escape."

"Roger," Gilbert and Mathias said automatically, while Lukas simply nodded.

"Then let's go."

Lukas's healing leg throbbed slightly when they broke out into a run, numbers flying past them, leading them through the labyrinth of doors and halls.

An unfamiliar voice: "What-" Blood sprayed, and Gilbert was already grinning, giddy with bloodlust.

A door clicked open, a footstep clacked, and a gunshot echoed through the air, Mathias's gun smoking. Before the corpse hit the ground, a scream had reverberated through the air, coming from inside the office.

Lukas did not look back, but he heard Mathias wrench the office door open and aim three more quick-fired bullets. Moments later, his reassuring presence returned, just as Tino broke off in a different direction.

"Follow the numbers!" Lukas reminded Gilbert, and the continued down the cold, writhing, waking halls.

* * *

He arrived as a whisper of a breeze that ruffled Felik's hair and dried Feliciano's tears.

Sadik sniffed the air and bared his teeth into a grin. "I smell smoke."

Kiku reached out with a hand, and a wind tangled his fingers into a gentle, reassuring hold. "Emil," he murmured.

 _"I promised."_ His voice was airy and breathless, barely there but audible. The hold disappeared but Emil was there, fuzzy around the sides at first, before slowing solidifying. He was no longer wearing the white lab clothes, but had on simple shorts and sneakers, a jacket thrown over a T-shirt. "I'm going to get you out."

Ludwig furrowed his brows and lifted his hands, which remained heavily cuffed. "How?"

"Somebody is working on it right now. He's hacking the lab computers and he'll release your restraints." Then Emil paused, surveying the room. "Where is Arthur?"

The hopeful atmosphere dispersed faster than smoke on a windy day, and the Tank's inhabitants exchanged unhappy looks.

"He's dead." Feliks was the one who spoke, staring almost defiantly at the younger boy. "He burned himself out while trying to, like, save you."

 _Dead…?_

"No." Emil breathed. "I…"

"You practically killed him."

"Feliks!" Sadik shook his head sternly, his lips pursed. "That's not true and you know it. It doesn't matter anyways. Not anymore. The dead is dead, there's no changing that. No one can bring someone back from the dead."

Emil opened his mouth to say something, but his earpiece crackled and he froze, a finger over the device to ensure he caught every single word that came over.

And in the end, there was only one single word: "Unlocked."

Right on cue, there was a prominent click, and Ludwig watched in amazement as the heavy metal cuffs around his wrists and ankles sigh as they loosened and cracked onto the white tiled floor.

The blonde flexed his fingers, rotated his wrist, and took several small, easy steps forward. "Incredible," he breathed. "I feel so light." The electric bars barely affected him as his broad hand closed around one thick metal pillar, and with a simple jerk of his hand, the metal bent and was pulled out of its sockets in the walls.

He dropped the bar, letting it clatter to the ground, silencing reigning afterwards.

And then Feliks threw back his head, and laughed.

* * *

They had just arrived in the E-wing, making it turn after Room 8, when the wall quite literally exploded.

Gilbert cursed and retreated several feet, nearly knocking into Lukas, who found himself suddenly sandwiched between the other two blondes when Mathias failed to brake soon enough.

"What's happening?" Mathias hissed at Gilbert, who was peeking over the corner through the dust when a very familiar voice cried somewhere in the flying dust, "Wait a moment!"

"Emil!" Lukas pushed himself to the front, squinting through the haze to see several dark shadows stumbling around. Several people were cursing as they walked into walls and debris, but his brother heard him.

"Lukas?"

"Everything going according to plan?" Gilbert called.

"Probably!"

There was the sound feet slapping against the floor, the dust rippled, and Lukas was suddenly engulfed in an invisible hug. Happy, hopeful laughter rang next to his ears, and the invisible person who had grabbed him so unceremoniously released him from the suffocating embrace, but kept two hands planted on his shoulders.

"You must be Emil's brother!" The voice sounded delighted, like a child receiving dessert, and Lukas thought he saw a flash of brunette and a brilliant smile, golden brown eyes washed bright with tears long shed.

"Yes, but who-"

"We've heard so much about you!" And Lukas could see him now, color leaking into empty space in front of him to form lines and shapes that pieced together into-

"Feli!" Two people were emerging from the settling dust, coughing and calling. One was a young Asian man with hollow cheeks and bony limbs, legs shaking as he struggled to remain upright despite the support of a tall, muscular blonde with ruffled blonde hair and piercing blue eyes narrowed in concern and irritation. "Stop running around by yourself! It's not safe-"

He froze very suddenly, and there was a choked gasp behind Lukas, Gilbert taking one step forward, then another, tentative and slow. "West…?"

"Gilbert?"

"West!" And then the albino was running towards the man, bloodlust forgotten as he launched himself into his younger brother. "Holy shit, West! You're alive! You were here all along? Oh mein Gott, ich vermisste dich so sehr!" He sank into rapid German, and Feliciano was there to take the frail Asian from the overjoyed brothers.

"Guys!" And there was Emil, completely unharmed save for pale hair dusted gray and watering eyes from the dust that had flown up when Ludwig punched through the walls. "The exit! That way!"

"What about Tino?" They were already heading towards Room 1, and Lukas was worried when the scientist didn't appear. He went after Oxenstierna, didn't he?

"Who?" There were some things that Mathias just couldn't remember.

At Tino's name, one of the prisoners from the lab – a young man with shoulder-length blonde hair and cat-green eyes – cried, "No!"

"He'll be fine!" Gilbert grinned, gesturing at everyone to move down the hallway towards the exit.

"No!" The blonde's eyes were wide with panic now. "No! I knew it! I should've told him! Liet-"

"Feliks, we have to leave!" The strange, masked man tugged desperately on the blonde's hand, making their towards-

"Stop right there!" And then there were guns, so many barrels and bullets pointing at them. At the head of the silent army that had slunk into the hallway through the exit they were heading towards, was a familiar blonde woman, cold blue eyes narrowed and harsh. Behind her were several short rows of men and women wearing the same white lab coats, but handling their weapons just as professionally. "Hands in the air! Drop your weapons!"

Three pairs of guns clattered to the floor, and no one else other than Gilbert, Lukas, and Mathias had a weapon in their hand. Their hands were in the air, their stances frozen; the moment they moved, they would all be punched full of holes. Natalia's eyes jerked from one person to another, giving them all a piece of that ice-cold glare. A muscle feathered in her jaw when she noticed Ludwig's freed hands, Emil's clothes, the hole in the wall, and Mathias. All in all, however, Lukas admired her self-control.

Several pairs of eyes glanced at the other end of the hallway; was it possible for them to escape to the next corridor and escape through the other exit?

Mathias, the one nearest to the edge, blinked, then stared at the guns and assassins with a baffled expression. He furrowed his brows, probably trying to recall what had just happened that led them to this situation.

Then very suddenly, his eyes widened, his jaw slacking dramatically, and Mathias gasped, pointing towards the open staircase behind the small army. "Zombies!" he shouted, then spun around and tried to bolt.

The oldest trick in the book, and no one was fooled. Their attackers did not even bat and eye, though several grips on guns tightened around the trigger; if they were in another, safer situation, Lukas would have face palmed; no one else tried to escape, though they appreciated the gallant effort.

However, their appreciation also dwindled when Mathias took two running steps and slammed straight into-

"…"

-a giant of some sort, towering over everyone with a cold blue glare behind square glasses perched on a strong nose. Doctor Berwald Oxenstierna did not even budge an inch, and did not even blink when Mathias stumbled back onto his rump, staring up at him with an awestruck expression. "Are you a titan?" he whispered.

"No." If Oxenstierna had more emotions in his voice, he would've been sarcastic. "I'm Levi."

"Hehe," Mathias chuckled, swallowing hard, his grin strained. "You're a funny guy." Then there was a click, and the smile slipped off faster than the safety on the Doctor's gun.

"Interesting." Oxenstierna grabbed the front of Mathias's shirt, hauling him up from the ground and keeping him in a strong hold with the barrel of the gun pressed again his temple, but it wasn't him who spoke. A young boy emerged from beside the large form of the Doctor, pale blue eyes bright and expectant, lips stretched into an ugly smile, and Emil bristled. "You all did better than I thought you would." Then he clapped his hands and laughed. "But well, I guess you have to be _really_ good to go against the entire world. It's sad that you couldn't be even _better_."

And that was when Lukas realized with sinking clarity that the Underworld had been waiting all along.

* * *

 **Hi! Another wonderful morning after a sleepless night. I tried to hurry up for this one, I really did. It turned out kind of bad, but hey! If there's one thing that I've learned from this chapter, it's that I'm horrid at writing action! Well, Finding Mathias is ready, thank you for reading, and have a nice day.**

 **But before that, remember to review! Thank you!**


	27. As The Sky Falls

**Chapter Twenty Six**

Lukas discovered that Peter was the most disgusting little boy he had ever met.

"It was so easy." But it was a good thing that he had watched too many cartoons, and was now following the script of all stereotypical villains. "Do you know how many satellites are owned by the Underworld? And not to mention cameras, of course. Very stupid too, settling in a hotel in the same _city_. It's no wonder we found you so soon." Peter gave a small laugh. "It was _so_ easy," he repeated. "At least you guys were smart enough not to let anyone else into the rooms and kept everything physical to avoid being hacked, but you just kept forgetting to check for bugs!" From the front pocket of his blue shorts, he pulled out a small device, obviously used for recording. He sneered. "So many precious arguments and conversations, all in here. Thought yourselves smart, did you?"

"Oh, I don't know," a voice sounded very suddenly behind the bulk of Doctor Oxenstierna. "I thought we were plenty smart that we did most of the strategy planning on the spot. Improvisation is a true skill, you know."

Startled, Peter spun around, pale eyes wide, and found himself staring down the barrel of a rifle, where a little lead ball sat innocently at the end of the tunnel of death, so close, yet so far away.

"Unless you want this _precious_ little boy to have half of his genius head blown off," Tino addressed everyone on the scene, "Hands in the air."

* * *

Antonio was driving towards the other dentist clinic, where Francis confirmed was more likely for the others to escape from. The hacker who was previously relatively relaxed after his initial job was done and was watching the events unfold through the hacked camera lens, suddenly swore and began to type furiously away on his keyboard.

Alfred glanced back, a predetermined victory grin on his face. "Alright there, Frenchie?"

" _Non_ ," was the curt reply, and everyone in the truck blinked at the one word. " _Non_ ," Francis repeated, more forceful this time, eyes darting across the screen as his fingertips brushed over the keys in a rapid, frenzied dance.

"What is it, Francis?" Antonio called, throwing a concerned glance back before staring back on the road.

"Cameras gone." The blonde simply didn't have the time and energy to hold an actual conversation. "Somebody's hacking from the other- _Merde!_ " There was a moment of utter frustration for Francis as he threw his hands up in the air after losing all connection with the lab cameras. With a groan, he replaced his hands onto the keyboard, and took a deep breath. "I'll have to go the other way."

The other, less direct 'way' was an obstacle course of walls and pillars and tunnels and traps that had Francis swearing every half minute as he struggled to worm his way through. Underworld security had certainly advanced – a lot – since the last time he had hacked into one of their facilities.

But the path led him far from the cameras, much to his frustration, and into a small, white room filled with files of names after names and faces attached to every piece of paper.

"Huh…" Out of curiosity, Francis opened the file marked '2'. Immediately, an unsmiling face pasted onto a half-empty document popped up. It was a picture of a boy: his lips pressed into a tight grimace, shoulder-length brown hair sagging, dull green eyes weary and blank. His skin was sallow and unhealthy, and instead of a name, he had a number:

 _Number: 16_

 _Age: 15_

 _Sex: Male_

 _Imported Location: Warsaw, Poland_

 _Status: Deceased_

Francis jolted, and quickly scrolled down, where this time, the face of a girl with shoulder-length blonde hair, half-lidded, bright green eyes, and a nearly-dreaming expression.

 _Number: 17_

 _Age: 15_

 _Sex: Male_

Francis blinked, and looked back at the picture. Indeed, Number 17 looked like he could be both a boy and a girl, though perhaps a bit more on the feminine side.

 _Imported Location: Warsaw, Poland_

 _Status: Alive_

 _Abilities: Able to sense emotions and life forces, including age and time of death._

Continuing to scroll, the hacker skimmed through face after face, description after description, and found no more survivors. Number 17 was the only one marked 'Alive'.

Feeling a bit sick in the stomach, Francis closed the document, and moved onto the next one, marked '3'.

A scowling young teen staring defiantly at the camera with golden brown eyes, dark brown hair ruffled with a random curl sticking out. He was Number 31, and the moment Francis saw the word _'deceased'_ , he took a broken, ragged breath and escaped the room, but not before being attracted by a document titled "Overview".

Except the first things he saw was:

 _Mortality rate: 89%_

 _Total Number: 47_

 _Number of Deceased: 42_

And that was it. Francis slammed his computer shut, flinging it into the space next to him (not hearing Matthew's quiet cry of "Ouch!"), and punching the seat in front of him.

"Hey!" Alfred frowned when he felt his seat jolting. "What was that for?"

"Bastards!" The Frenchman snarled at no one in particular. "Vile beasts, the lot of them!" And then at Antonio: "Get them out!"

Antonio had parked the van on the side of the road, close to the clinic, and was now fumbling with his earpiece. "Calm down, Francis. There's nothing we can do for now." But just to appease his friend, he pressed the piece into his ear and called, "Guys, hurry up! The longer you stay in there, the easier it is for them to eat you!"

But he was met by silence.

* * *

"You w'll n't shoot a boy, T'no." Guns and weapons had clattered to the floor, most people probably more terrified of Oxenstierna's wrath than the thought of Peter getting hurt or killed.

"You don't know that, Berwald." Peter himself was frozen in wide-eyed shock, jaws hanging. He took a small, stumbling step backwards when Tino jabbed the rifle towards him.

"But I kn'w you." Only Oxenstierna still had not dropped his gun, keeping it firmly pointed at Mathias's temple. The forgetful teen glanced back and forth between the two scientists, eyebrows furrowing worriedly.

When Tino spoke again, his voice was soft and lacking any steel. "I thought I knew you too, Berwald, but I was wrong. The Berwald I knew would never have allowed himself to fall into the plague of greed in the Underworld. The Berwald I knew would never have ordered the death of a colleague to avoid shameful rumors." Tino grabbed Peter and spun him around to face the Doctor, the rifle now pointing at the back of his head. "But I guess the Berwald I knew is dead."

"Uncle Berwald," Peter cried softly, his voice shaking. "Please save me. I don't want to die!"

"Th' T'no I knew would nev'r k'll 'n 'nnocent child."

"Watch me," the smaller blonde offered the challenge. "Release Mathias or watch me slaughter your _'nephew'_ in front of you."

" _Uncle Berwald,_ " the child pleaded.

"No."

The single word remained suspended in the air for a long moment, further emphasized by Berwald's unrelenting hold on Mathias.

Tino took a deep, shuddering breath. "Very well." The gun was aimed and ready to fire; his finger was pressed against the trigger, and he willed his hands to stop trembling as he steeled himself before the murder of a miserably weeping child. He took another breath.

And pulled the trigger.

Peter screamed yet did not fall, even when blood sprayed. But Berwald Oxenstierna was swearing in Swedish as his gun clattered onto the ground, his grip on Mathias gone with one hand clutching the injured other.

Mathias swooped down to grab the pistol, and he was meters away before the others realized what had happened.

Before anyone could react, however, Tino lunged, and despite his smaller stature, he slammed into Oxenstierna and knocked the air out of his lungs against the white walls.

"Weapons!" Natalia shouted, a hunting knife and a pistol in her hands when a streak of silver flashed past her, only her instincts saving her from a slit throat. Many others behind her, however, were not so lucky.

Gilbert cackled in the slaughter, and before Natalia could raise her gun to shoot him dead, somebody grasped a handful of her long blonde hair and yanked down – _hard_. The assassin spun around, spotting golden hair and emerald green eyes.

"Hello, _bitch_ ," Number 17 cooed. He yanked down again, and Natalia yelped, then growled. "Lucky for you, the clock is still ticking. But consider this revenge for what you did to Liet."

"It's a fucking pathetic revenge," she spat at the Polish boy. She didn't want pity from a madman.

"Fucking _fabulously_ pathetic," corrected Number 17, the last word drowned out by an enraged roar and frightened scream.

"FUCK!" Gilbert shouted. "SHUT DOWN! EXIT BLOCKED!"

The grip tugging painfully at her scalp disappeared, and Number 17 was running, disappearing around the corridor opposite the way the white-haired assassin had gone before Natalia could pull her gun and aim.

 ** _"RUN!"_**

 _"Uncle Berwald!"_

Tino and Berwald grappled at each other, kicking and punching and snarling like savage dogs.

 ** _"RUN!"_** Tino bellowed again. _"Get out of here! I'll be right behind-"_

A knee in the gut cut off his sentence, but he bared his teeth and cracked Berwald's jaw with an uppercut with the butt of his rifle.

 _"Uncle Berwald!"_ Peter was sobbing. _"Stop it! Stop!"_

"Attention! At arms!" Natalia was shouting herself hoarse at a half-slaughtered army.

"Get out of here!" Emil's young voice barely made it over the noise of chaos.

Streaks shot past the two fighting men: two friends supporting a starved skeleton, a blind man being tugged and lead by a determined and desperate blonde, brothers and friends and people he wished he could see again, just one more time.

There was something pressing against his ribs from a hidden pocket in his jacket, and Tino knew what it was. But then it was him who slammed against the wall this time, choking against a powerful hold around his throat.

 _"TINO!"_ Why was Mathias calling to him when he didn't even remember who he was?

 _"Mathias, get out!"_

Tino jabbed two fingers straight under Berwald's shoulder, forcing the Doctor's arm numb and too weak to suffocate him. A kick knocking his opponent's head back was all he could manage before Berwald boxed his ears – stars splaying across his vision – and he was shouting:

 _"MATHIAS, OUT!"_

 _"Stop FIGHTING!"_

Natalia shot past them, face cold but blank and uncertain.

 _"Emil! Run!"_ And the last three people disappeared from the corridor, an assassin at their heels. Far away, a gunshot sounded.

Finally, Tino turned his unwavering attention to his former partner. _"Who are you?"_

But Berwald replied, _"Who're_ you _?"_

 _"ME?"_ Tino was incredulous. "Who am _I_? Even after being forced back here, I haven't changed! But you- what you've done and are doing right now…" he bared his teeth and snarled, but was blinking back tears. "You _disgust_ me."

Berwald answered with the appearance of another gun, spitting out a bullet that shattered the light, making Peter scream and Tino duck for protection against the falling glass. The larger blonde took advantage of this and caught Tino with a kick in the stomach. "You won't und'rstand, T'no," he called. "I have m' reas'ns, 'nd now th't th' war's gone 'nd ov'r 'nd lost, it doesn't conc'rn you anymore." Tino crawled back to his feet, his expression impossibly broken.

"I want this to end, Berwald," he whispered, taking steps back when Berwald advanced, lifting his rifle to aim. "All of this. Everything. Just let me end it, Berwald."

Berwald pointed his pistol at his head. "No." How many more times did he need to say it? " _I_ w'll end it."

"Freeze," a cold voice commanded. Tino felt a dozen pair of Underworld guns pointed at his back, and he inwardly sighed.

And prepared himself for the end.

* * *

Natalia was the first to sense it, and then it was Mathias and Gilbert. They knew it before it happened, and like animals before the apocalypse, they reacted.

Kiku was thrown over Gilbert's shoulder, Mathias bolting past them all and clearing the way. Natalia stopped between one stride and another, froze for a second, and then screamed.

And then a booming, echoing explosion rocked the world in a violent earthquake, the ground was rumbling, the sky was falling-

 _"RUN!"_

They were so close to the door, to the exit, when he felt it.

Heat rippling towards them, melting the walls, tearing up the floors, dragging down the ceiling.

The door was at the end of the hallway. Frantic voices called, ushering people out and up towards-

Fire and instant death came rushing in: it was nipping at his heels, clawing at his back.

 _"Emil!"_

The fire was roaring behind him, and he wondered if this was how hell felt like before he lunged through the doorway and Lukas slammed the door shut behind him. The wave of heat was contained, but it melted the door into the wall, and then they were all running, up the stairs and into the light where-

"Francis! Antonio! Alfred!"

"What was that?!"

"An explosion-"

"We have to leave!"

"But Tino-"

And then there it was again. A distant rumbling, then a crashing roar, the world shaking and trembling before silence.

"What was that?" Feliks repeated his question.

Antonio, expert in weapons, answered immediately, but his voice was grim. "A bomb. Tino brought several bombs underground, and I'm guessing at least two just detonated. This lab is no more."

But so was Tino.

* * *

"Let me end this," Tino repeated. His rifle was on the ground, his hands in the air, a dozen killing machines aimed and ready to punch him full of lead. The hallway was now completely silent save for Peter's terrified sobbing in one corner.

"You can't, T'no." Why was he so stubborn?

"Berwald." There was a long stretch of tense silence before Tino continued, hesitatingly and quietly. "Remember the story three years ago that kept passing around? Everyone was telling it, for reasons I didn't understand. Remember? It's the one about the boy who ran down the streets, crying, _'The sky is falling, the sky is falling!'_?"

Berwald blinked, the only sign of surprise at where their vicious conversation had gone. "But it w's he who brought th' sky down onto h's own head."

"Exactly." Tino nodded slowly. Then, he opened his mouth and called, _"The sky is falling!"_

In the one second of confusion after his declaration, the young scientist dropped into a crouch, pulled out the bomb from under his jacket, pressed the activation button, and tossed the digital sphere into the air.

Time seemed to stop. Tino watched in slow motion as the bomb spun, the seconds falling like meteors before shrinking into six zeroes in a row, and then there was light, and fire, and heat.

He briefly wondered if the heat of this bomb would be enough to activate the second bomb he had placed in Berwald Oxenstierna's office.

Then, there was a shuddering boom that rocked the earth under and around them, and then, the world exploded.

Flesh melted into steam, bones disintegrated into dust, screams swallowed up by the vacuum of deadly nothingness.

And the sky fell.

* * *

 **And that's it! Technically speaking this is the last chapter, but there's still an Epilogue that will be posted on my birthday, not too far into the future. Thank you all so much for reading and for all the reviews, but since the story's technically still not over yet, please review! They will be much appreciated!**


	28. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

"Like, what is _she_ doing here?" Feliks hadn't stopped glaring at Natalia for the entire car ride, and he seemed even more ticked off by the fact that he was being elegantly ignored.

"Again, Feliks, we're dropping her off at the train station." But after years of tolerance, Sadik knew how to deal with the pouty teenager.

"Why can't she just, like, walk?"

Alfred gasped. "We've been driving for twenty minutes, and we're still not there. You expect to make her walk? That's _rude_."

"Not as rude as what she did to us back in that place," was Feliks' stubborn argument.

"Actually…" Kiku piped up, seeming almost afraid to enter the conversation. "Ms. Natalia didn't do much other than being an escort and guard, right?"

"Ve~!" Feliciano gave a happy nod. "Last time she gave me a piece of chocolate before they did the shock test, didn't you, Ms. Natalia?"

The assassin snapped around to look at the brunette, staring at him with an unsure expression before turned back to staring stubbornly out the window. A pale pink dusted her cheeks, and it took a long time before she managed to stammer out, "I-I just had some in my pocket at the time, that's all!"

" _Grazie!_ "

"Train station?" Antonio called over his shoulder as he quickly pulled up against the sidewalk.

Natalia was out the car in an instant, but she didn't close the door immediately. She glanced at each face in the large van, before her gaze finally landed on Mathias. There was a long moment as the two stared at each other, before Natalia swallowed and threw two words at him: "I am."

Mathias blinked, expression blanking for a second before a wide grin split across his face and he barked out a delighted laugh. "Saint Petersburg," was his cryptic reply, but Natalia understood, nodding in acknowledgement before closing the van's door.

From outside the window she gave a small, uncertain smile, before spinning around on her heels, straightening her dress shirt, and the young girl disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

 _He remembered Magyar as a tall, willowy woman with a dazzling smile, a bold, enchanting voice, but empty, lifeless green eyes that were like unpolished emeralds cut with many sharp angles and sudden cliffs. She was not a religious woman in any sense, but she could often be found flipping through the Bible with a quizzical twist on her lips._

 _He remembered one time, as he watched her turn yet another thin page from behind the thick metal bars, he asked to see what she was reading. His grandfather had been a religious man, and he was curious._

 _His brother was quietly livid, obviously wondering if he had gone mad, speaking to a_ traitor _._

 _But he didn't think Magyar really was a traitor: she was so pretty, and not always very cruel. He had seen her patiently teach shivering children to read, to dance, to hold a gun and be brave._

 _Magyar stared for a moment, then cleared her throat and read,_ "One day, the angels came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan also came with them…"

"It's Jobs!" _he had exclaimed. She nodded slowly, and a smile split across his face._

 _His brother, on the other hand, was not so cheerful._ "Haha, hilarious," _he rolled his eyes._ "A tragic story, just like ours."

 _He threw an arm around his brother's shoulders, pulling him close, smile never fading._ "Fratello-"

"Hey _, traitor_ ," _his brother called to Magyar, who stiffened._ "Pray tell us _poor pitiful prisoners_ , what's going on in the shitstorm outside?"

'Shitstorm' was a mild way of putting it, _he thought, but since it wasn't as encouraging a thought as he would have preferred, he decided not to voice it. Instead, he said,_ "Oh, don't listen to him, Signorina; but please do tell us a story."

 _Her green eyed gaze shifted from one brother to another before she sucked in a deep breath, closing the Bible and letting the leather bound Bible settle on her lap. She wouldn't look at them, and when she spoke, her voice was soft and sad._ "Once upon a time, a young boy came running through the streets, crying, _'The sky is falling! The sky is falling!'_ "

 _His eyes widened. He had heard the story once before, very recently. It was the story now passing through the lips of laughing children and bitter elders; it was the story that people warred over and killed, the story that was now condemning them all to death._

 _His brother knew it too, and it was he who continued in a numb tone and barely audible whisper._ "But it was he who had toppled the pillars holding up and guarding the sky, and as it crumbled and fell to the earth, heaven fell with it; and thus, hell was created."

* * *

"Where will y'all be heading to next?" Gilbert was the one who kept the conversation flowing after everyone had slept their share in the twelve hour plane ride back to America.

Feliks shrugged, but Sadik said, "There're a few people I want to go find. They'll either be in Egypt or Turkey, so that's probably where I'm going."

"I'll go with you then," the blonde offered. "Nothing much left for me back in Europe anyway."

"I was thinking along the lines of Taiwan or Korea," Kiku piped up a little uncertainly. "Or maybe go back to Japan."

"Japan!" Feliciano seemed absolutely delighted. "Kiku, may I come with you? Please? Pretty please? I want to go to Japan!"

The Asian chuckled. "Of course you may, Feli. What about you, Ludwig-san?"

" _Mein kleiner bruder!_ " Gilbert whined. "Stay with me! America is a wonderful place to be!"

"That is absolutely correct," Alfred called from the cockpit. "We'll be heading to California for a quick transport, I think. Right, Mattie?"

"Yes, I believe so…"

Ludwig pretended to ponder, glancing between his brother and his friends, until finally, he folded his muscled arms and leaned back against his seat with a playful, almost cruel, smirk. "I think I'd rather go with Kiku and Feli. Less chance of going mad, you know."

Gilbert's jaw dropped open, and he pointed an accusing finger at his younger brother. "You- you-! How dare you! Francis, Antonio!" He flung himself at his two friends, clutching his shattered heart, sniffling with non-existent tears streaming down his pale face. "Did you hear that? My little brother has abandoned me!"

Mathias roared with laughter and then tapped the shoulder of Lukas, who sat in front of him. "Where are we going, Lukas?"

"Home."

But Mathias was confused. "Copenhagen?"

"No." _Why Copenhagen?_ "We're going back to Boston." It seemed like Lukas and Emil weren't going to be getting rid of Mathias anytime soon, not that they particularly wanted to anyways.

"Well, pity that everyone's going their own ways," Antonio said. "But at least we'll be walking distance from each other." He flashed a grin in their direction.

Mathias sent back a grin and thumbs up, before Alfred called in a dramatized shout, " _AMERICA!_ "

Lukas released a contented sigh, sitting back on his seat with his seatbelt properly secured, allowing himself to smile.

How long had they truly been gone? It couldn't have been more than two weeks, but it felt like months. Too much had happened in a too short span of time, and when they broke through the clouds and caught sight of the sprawling, grappling buildings of New York City, Lukas marveled at how much the world had seemed to change.

Suddenly things were clearer, brighter, small things rippling into storms for better or for worse. Life glowed, death loomed, but living and surviving had become separate, and he found himself wanting more, expecting more. More than an escape from the orphanage, more than a tiny apartment, more than going with the flow and living days like the dead.

And as they sank towards the city below, Lukas felt the living world welcome him home.

 **~The End~**

* * *

 **The End! Thank you so much for reading, and for all the favorites, follows, and reviews! It was been a wonderful journey writing this story, all thanks to you.**

 **But do not fret, the story has no completely ended. The prologue of 'Finding Mathias' is already posted, feel free to go check it out. See you all there!**


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